It's Witchcraft
by Horcrux7
Summary: After an understanding look from Hermione, Draco finds he can't get the know-it-all Gryffindor out of his head, but he convinces himself what he feels isn't infatuation but witchcraft. The untold tale of forbbiden love weaved into the HalfBlood Prince.
1. With One Look

**A/N:** Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Chapter one: With One Look**

Draco Malfoy rolled his eyes as Hermione answered another question perfectly, earning another ten points for Gryffindor. With Snape teaching Defense against the Dark Arts instead of Potions, Draco's favorite subject had quickly become his worst. His only solace came with that fact that Potter was no longer the best in DADA.

"Harry, you've done it again!" yelled Slughorn from across the dungeon and Draco nearly chopped off the end of his finger in his disgust. He glanced in Potter's direction long enough to catch a glimpse of Hermione's frustrated glare at her friend. _How's it feel to be outdone, Mudblood?_ he thought contemptuously.

The massive form that was Professor Slughorn threw a shadow over Draco's cauldron as he observed its contents. "Adequate, Mr. Malfoy," he said, clicking his tongue, "though after an Outstanding OWL I'd expect better out of you."

Draco swore under his breath as the enormous man moved to the next table. From across the room, his grey eyes locked with a brown pair belonging to Hermione Granger. Instead of her normal stares of contempt, she looked at him with a seeming understanding. For once, He didn't feel like narrowing his eyes or mouthing some sort of cruel insult, he just went back to his rapidly bubbling cauldron.

Seconds later he pounded his fist on the table in frustration. It wasn't like him to pass up a chance to make a Mudblood feel inferior, especially Granger. His fellow Slytherins looked at him questionably, but went back to their work as he growled at them. "What's wrong with me?" he asked himself inaudibly.

Not long after, Slughorn finally put Draco out of his misery. He collected his books and timed his exit so he could painfully shoulder Hermione out of the way; as if it were her fault that he'd had a moment of weakness. He glanced back down the corridor, a small smirk playing at his lips, and saw the narrow eyes he was accustomed to. "Teach you to look at me_," _he sneered under his breath_, "_with those big—"

He stopped short in his tracks. Did he really just say that? He tried, to no avail, to forget what he'd almost said and practically ran to the Slytherin common room for his free period. The last thing he needed to do was entertain thoughts of Mudblood. Especially Granger… especially now.

* * * *

"He's up to something," whispered Harry for the second time, "I know it." He had barely touched his lunch and it seemed that catching Draco was quickly becoming his obsession.

"We know, Harry," Hermione agreed, rubbing her bruised shoulder, "but that's all you've talked about since we arrived."

Ignoring her, he turned to Ron and went on talking about his theories. She tried her best to block him out while looking around the Great hall for someone sane to talk to. Ginny was with Dean, as always, and Lavender was to busy trying to attract Ron's attention, though the attempt was completely futile. Opening her bag, Hermione realized, with slight embarrassment, that she'd already completed all of the volumes that she currently carried with her. She chewed the last few bites of her lunch and left the hall without a word to her friends. The last thing she wanted to talk, or even hear about was Draco Malfoy. The pain in her shoulder was reminder enough of his useless existence.

Her solitary free period was after lunch, and since she didn't want to sit around in the common room with Harry ranting about Malfoy, she went straight to the library. After all, she really did need to do some extra reading for her Ancient Runes assignment.

Quietly putting her bag on a table, she went to the shelves containing the books that could help her. She walked along, immersed in her searching. Occasionally she pulled out a book to appraise it further, but nothing seemed to be what she needed. She was so engrossed in her hunt that she didn't notice a person beside her, slowly edging closer in their own exploration of the shelf and it wasn't long before she collided with them. "Oh, I'm sorr—" she began before she realized who it was she'd bumped. Cold stone eyes glared down at her and her eyes narrowed. "Never mind."

"Hey," Draco said in feigned offense, "you ran into me, Mudblood."

"It's not like you did anything to prevent it," she retorted. "and if you'd ask me—"

"I won't."

She ignored him. "You really need some new insults. That one just gets old, you know."

He stepped closer to her and brought his face within centimeters of hers in an effort to intimidate her. It worked. "Don't cross me, Granger," he whispered harshly and walked away.

Hermione inhaled, grabbed a random book and walked back to her table. Maybe the common room and Harry's ranting would have been preferable. She tried in vain to focus on the text but eventually gave up. Pulling out her incomplete essay, she wrote a few meaningless words but gave up on that endeavor as well.

Across the library she caught sight of Draco staring at her. When she noticed him, his eyes narrowed, but it was obvious to her that they hadn't been before.

"They mean the same thing," an unfamiliar voice behind her advised.

Hermione turned to the unknown voice and met an unknown face. "Pardon me?"

The green eyed girl pointed to the blank part of her parchment, "They mean the same thing."

"Oh," she shook her head to clear it. "thank you."

The girl gave a tentative smile and shrugged, "No problem. Could I sit here?"

"Of course," Hermione smiled quickly and moved a huge book out of the way.

The girl sat down and waited a few minutes before introducing herself, "I'm Zofia, by the way. Zofia Ruskaya." She held out a hand and Hermione shook it.

"Nice to meet you," she replied, almost distractedly. She looked back to Draco, who was still staring at her.

"Beware," Zofia said dramatically, "there's an evil presence lurking."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed wholeheartedly, "so I guess you're not in Slytherin."

She laughed, soft and short, "No, Ravenclaw."

For the next hour Hermione was too busy talking with her new friend to even think about her runes assignment. Besides, she had very few people she could count as friends and she wasn't about to pass up the chance to make a new one. Especially since her other friends seemed to want to talk about Malfoy all the time, and he was haunting her enough.

* * * *

Draco paced in front of his elegant four poster bed. Desperately he tried to think up a better plan for executing his task than his current one. Unfortunately, his mind kept wondering to places it never should. Whenever he closed his eyes he saw big brown eyes staring up at him in fear and he almost felt… guilty.

Guilt wasn't something he was used to feeling, or liked feeling. But the lingering guilt wasn't what bothered him most, and neither were her eyes. What concerned him most was slightly south of her eyes and the fact that as she'd looked up into his eyes, so obviously frightened by him, he'd actually thought of kissing her. The thought almost made him cringe…almost. But he realized that the feelings of disgust were completely fabricated because he knew that's how he should feel as both a pureblooded wizard and a Malfoy.

Then it hit him. His thoughts clearly weren't natural. "Damn, she must have done something to me!" he reasoned aloud.

"Go to bed, Malfoy!" groaned Blaise Zabini from inside his curtained bed.

Draco drew the drapes around his own bed and fell back onto his pillow, able to relax for the first time all day. It wasn't his fault that Granger kept creeping into his thoughts, she was obviously behind it.

The smallest smirk parted his lips as he fell asleep. If only Potter knew that his girlfriend was desperately after _him_.

**A/N: Well? What do you think so far? Do you like it...? Wanna...oh, I don't know....tell me in a review? :)**


	2. Confrontation

**A/N**: Everything, except what you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Chapter Two: Confrontation**

Hermione awoke in a cold sweat. It had been a long time since she'd had a really vivid dream, and even longer since she'd had a nightmare, but one had definitely just woken her up. She wasn't sure how long the dream had lasted, but it was long enough to scare her. Recalling the violent scene, a shiver of fear ran down her spine. "I really need to stop listening to Harry."

Crawling to the end of her bed, she reached down and pulled the runes book out of her bag. It hadn't been exactly what she'd needed, but the book was interesting nevertheless. Besides, she knew that if she went back to sleep there was always a chance she'd start dreaming again, and she didn't like those odds.

She futilely tried to read, but every time she even blinked she saw the eerily placid gray eyes of Malfoy as he raised a wand to her chest. Luckily she had woken up before he'd said anything, but she knew what he'd been about to say. She shuddered again. In about three hours she had a potions lesson with Malfoy just across the room and she really wasn't looking forward to it.

It was the first time in her life that she seriously considered skipping class.

* * * *

"Draco!" Pansy whispered harshly, and apparently not for the first time.

In his start, Draco spilt the contents of the small vile he held in his hand. "Damn it, Parkinson, look what you made me do."

"Well, I had to stop you somehow!" her brow furrowed, causing an unpleasant effect across her face.

"Stop me from what?" he spat.

"Ruining your reputation! You were staring at Granger!"

His eyes widened incredulously. "I was?"

Hayden Gaige, a fellow Slytherin, snorted from his other side, "_Oh, yeah_."

_Uh oh_. If Pansy and Hayden had both noticed, chances were they weren't the only ones. Damn, this was the third time this week! And it was getting worse; he couldn't seem to get his eyes off of her! Whenever he entered class or the Great Hall, he immediately started searching for her. He was even spending time in the library! She had definitely done something to him, and it was right time he found out what it was. But most importantly: how to stop it.

Luckily though, he didn't have to see her until lunch that day. Today he was determined not to look for her, or think about her at all.

* * * *

Hermione shifted uncomfortably on the bench. Lunch was slowly becoming the worst part of her day. She tried to ignore the fact that she was under the close, and seemingly constant scrutiny of Malfoy, but it was hard to carry on as usual when he kept looking at her. Not only had her horrifying nightmares persisted; Malfoy almost made her terror come to life. As if he was waiting for the precise moment to pounce.

Ginny glanced at the perturbed expression on Hermione's face. "Is he at it again?" she asked with concern.

"Yes! He's been doing it all week!" she groaned in a frustrated sigh. "I've a right mind to curse him."

"I could do it," Ginny offered. "Slughorn seems to think I'm great at curses." She rolled her eyes in an effort to cheer up her friend.

"I'm sorry, Ginny, I just can't take this," She took one last drink of her pumpkin juice and shouldered her bag. "I'll be in the library."

"Bye," she bid to her friend's back.

"What was that about?" Ron asked from across the table.

"Malfoy has been staring at her all week and it's making her nervous," she explained. From the bench where Harry and Ron sat they couldn't see Malfoy as he kept close watch on their table. At the moment, though, he was watching Hermione as she left the hall. He waited a while before standing; Ginny could almost see the debate in his cold eyes. Her stomach lurched as he moved toward the door. "Oh, no you don't," she muttered.

"What?" Harry asked with alarm.

"It's Malfoy; I bet he's following Hermione. _You little ferret_." Her eyes narrowed at his retreating figure as she stood up to follow.

* * * *

Hermione saw the long red braid hanging over a chair as soon as she walked into the library and immediately went to it. She sighed as she sat her bag on the table, "I'm glad to see you."

Zofia looked up compassionately. "You don't think he followed, do you?" she whispered, knowing what caused her disconcertment.

As if she had predicted, Malfoy swept into the huge room and glanced around the tables. Hermione fell onto the chair and hid her face. "He won't stop! It's as if he's trying to do something to me!"

Zofia glared at him from her chair. Even though she'd only known Hermione for a week, and she was a year older than Zofia herself, she still felt very protective of her new friend. And the fact that Malfoy was the cause of the discord only added fuel to her fire. "He's coming over here," she warned in a low whisper.

"Might I have a word, Granger?" he asked in feigned pleasantness.

"No," she answered flatly.

His demeanor changed instantly. "Listen, Mudblood—"

"Malfoy," she hissed through clenched teeth. "if you really want to talk to me you might try asking nicely!"

His eyes widened at her retort. "I did! You said no!"

_Oh, yeah_. She immediately regained her wit. "Well, then let this be a lesson in tenacity."

Without warning he violently grabbed Hermione's wrist and pulled her to her feet. "I'll teach you a lesson" he sneered, centimeters from her face.

But it wasn't long before he noticed the two wands pointed at his chest. "If I were you, I'd let go," Ginny said calmly and quietly, so as not to draw attention to the scene.

Draco smirked at them. "Or what?" he asked in a tone that betrayed his fear.

"Do you really want to find out, Malfoy?" Zofia asked acidly.

Realizing his defeat, he relinquished his grip and muttered a few insults as he walked away.

Hermione collapsed onto the chair and Zofia and Ginny raced to her side. "Are you okay?" they asked in unison.

"I'll live." She smiled at her friends pathetically. "Remind me why I don't just kill him?"

"Because you'll be expelled," Zofia reminded her.

"Right," she sighed dejectedly.

Ginny turned to Zofia. "Who are you?" she inquired.

"Zofia Ruskaya, Ravenclaw." She held out a hand to Ginny.

"Ah, yes, we have transfiguration together. Ginny Weasley," she said, shaking her hand.

Zofia smiled in a way that meant she already knew. Hermione looked up at Ginny in confusion. "How did you get here?"

"I saw him follow you, so I followed him. Good thing I did." She smiled at Zofia. "No offense."

"So, what are we going to do about this?" Hermione asked timidly from her chair. She was obviously shaken.

"We can't let you be alone, unless you're in the common room," Ginny suggested thoughtfully.

The three of them sat around the table and began to devise a schedule of bodyguards for Hermione. Of course, they'd have to have Harry and Ron do a great deal of it since they had classes with her. When she had none of them around, generally Malfoy wasn't either, but Hermione decided that she would take the main halls to all of her classes, so even if he were around he wouldn't have any chances of getting her alone.

* * * *

Hermione didn't feel completely safe as she walked down to the Quidditch pitch, Zofia at her side, but she tried to let the excitement she felt override her fear. Since Harry, Ron and Ginny were all on the team; Zofia was on duty for the match.

It had been a week since the library, and Draco hadn't tried anything since, but his stare had yet to cease. Much to Hermione's chagrin neither had her nightmares. It wasn't like her to be paranoid and scared, but after his episode in Borgin and Burkes, and a sufficient amount of Harry's ranting, she felt her fear was justified.

The two ascended the steps to the stands where they would watch the match. Hermione felt a surge of Gryffindor pride as she joined her fellow supporters, which consisted of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws as well.

But before the match even began, Hermione started to feel familiar cramps creep into her abdomen. Rolling her eyes, she turned to Zofia with a distressed look. "I have to go back to the castle," she whispered hurriedly.

"Oh, okay, I'll go with you."

Hermione smiled. "That's okay, really. If I'm safe at anytime it's during a Quidditch match."

Zofia looked at her questionably.

"Malfoy's on the team," she explained. "I'll be okay." Hermione tried to disturb the least amount of people she possibly could as she left the stadium and walked back to the deserted school. Running to the Gryffindor tower, she quickly got the things she needed and took a swig of the special potion Madam Pomfrey had given her.

In her haste to get back to the match, she decided to take a couple short cuts. The only problem was that when she took them during school, she was with other students; consequently, she got lost. Only when she was in a corridor on the seventh floor, across from dancing trolls, did she realize where she was.

All of the sudden, someone came around the corner. Hermione's heart sped up as soon as she recognized the tall figure. He walked toward her, head down in thought, not noticing that anyone was there. "Malfoy?"

His head shot up at his name. "Granger?" he sneered. "What're you doing?"

Her eyes widened in utter shock. "Me?" she squeaked. "What are you doing? You're supposed to be in the match right now!"

The reality that Hermione was in position to get him in a great deal of trouble completely escaped his mind. His stomach involuntarily clench and he felt nervousness tantamount to what he felt before a match. The only thing he could focus on was the fact that, for once, they were actually alone. There wasn't anyone around to interrupt them, in truth; there wasn't anyone around at all. This was his chance to get to the bottom of his infatuation.

Without completely thinking it through, He took a firm grasp on her wrist and pulled her along as he paced in front of the wall. Hermione futilely yelled at him as he mumbled, "I need a private room," three times.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione's look of horror when the door appeared. Not taking any care to be gentle, he flung her into the room and blocked the exit.

"Are you mad? What do you think you're doing!?" she screamed, sounding a whole lot braver than she looked. She looked absolutely petrified.

"I'm going to ask you a question and it would be in your best interest to be honest," he said slowly as if he were speaking to a child. "Did you give me a love potion, or put me under some sort of spell?"

Hermione's look of terror turned to comic shock. She crossed her arms and shook her head. "You have some ego. Give me one good reason why I would even waste the Knuts."

He smirked, small and subtle. He had a few good reasons why she would give him something; unfortunately, they gave too much away. That would be detrimental to his task. "Because you want me." He leaned back on the door and crossed his arms. "And you'll do anything to get me."

She gave him an unladylike snort, "I cannot believe this. I don't like you at all; in fact, I probably hate you. No," she corrected herself, "I _do_ hate you."

The smirk fell from his face and began to walk toward her. As much as he hated to admit it, what she'd said had hit a nerve. "Well, you must have done something to me because I can't stop thinking about you!" he yelled angrily, and immediately regretted it. He could almost see her heart shatter in her eyes. Draco didn't even try to stop her as she ran past him, slamming the door in her wake.

**A/N: Review? I LOVE reading them!**


	3. It's Witchcraft!

A/N: Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Chapter Three: It's Witchcraft**

Draco kicked the nearest chair and it shattered against the blacken hearth. He caught sight of his reflection in the elaborate full-length mirror and for the first time in his life he was utterly disgusted with himself. Sure, what he'd just said to Hermione wasn't one of his proudest moments, but that was nothing compared to what he'd just realized. If she hadn't put him under some sort of spell, and from the look of pure agony on her face she obviously hadn't, it meant that the feelings he felt for her were completely authentic.

After letting out a feral yell, he left the room. Pacing in front of it once more, he reentered the transformed room and set to work. He was quite happy to have something to take his mind off what had just happened in the very same space.

* * * *

Hermione didn't immediately return to the Quidditch match. As much as she hated herself for it, she couldn't stop the tears from escaping her brown eyes. But why should she care what Malfoy said? He'd probably just said it to get her to keep silent about him skipping the match anyway. It wasn't like him to pass up a chance to insult her, and he always seemed to know how to hurt her the most.

She inhaled deeply and wiped her wet cheeks. If she didn't go back soon, Zofia was liable to send a search party for her. A few people gave her funny looks as she swam her way through the crowd, but most just complained that she was in their way of the match. But she knew that Zofia wouldn't just look at her. "Hermione! What happened?" Zofia yelled over the din of the crowd as soon as Hermione reached her side.

"Let's just say I now know that Malfoy doesn't want to hurt me. Not physically, at least," she added in a tone that said she didn't want to talk about it.

"I was afraid you'd run into him. Just as you left the wanker who's announcing said that Malfoy wasn't seeking today," she explained, "said he was sick."

"He looked pretty healthy to me." Now Harry's ranting didn't sound so crazy, he really _was_ up to something.

* * * *

"So, what happened?" Zofia questioned in the library the following day.

"He just pulled me into the room and accused me of giving him a love potion. That's all," Hermione explained noncommittally.

"Oh, so _that's_ why your eyes were red," she reasoned sarcastically.

"Well, it was just the _way_ he accused me. He always knows how to get under my skin," she relished as she skimmed over the page of her textbook. Not only had he gotten under her skin, he was starting to get in the way of her schoolwork. It was ironic how he'd deeply complimented and deeply insulted her in the same breath. "Why can't I concentrate?" she growled to herself.

"Why do you think he accused you of giving him a love potion?" Zofia ventured pointedly.

Hermione shrugged in a pitiful attempt at evading the inquiry, but one look at her friend told her that it was unavailing. She leaned across the table so no one could overhear. "He said he couldn't stop thinking about me," she revealed.

"That would explain the staring and stalking," Zofia rationalized aloud.

"And he obviously means in a romantic way, otherwise…"

"He wouldn't have accused you of giving him a love potion," she finished.

The mere thought of it made Hermione shudder. "Exactly."

Zofia leaned back in her chair, slightly in awe over the strange change of events. For two weeks she, along with her new Gryffindor friends, had worried about her welfare and all Malfoy wanted to do was talk to her. Malfoy liked Hermione! Zofia had to stifle a laugh.

Over Hermione's head Zofia could see Malfoy as soon as he entered the library. They'd been sitting in there for hours and she was a little surprised that it had taken him so long to make an appearance. She didn't alert Hermione to his presence, but it wasn't long before she noticed him on her own.

"Ahg," she groaned, "Will he never give me peace?" Out the window she could see that very few students scattered the grounds. That probably meant it was quite chilly. She hoped that would hinder Malfoy from following her. She, on the other hand, could stand it. "I'm going outside," she explained as she collected her books.

Zofia could tell that she wanted to be alone. But as Malfoy followed her progress from across the room, she knew her solitude would be short lived.

* * * *

Malfoy slowly pursued the object of his involuntary affections, trying his best not to be seen. It had been quite obvious that she'd left solely for the purpose of getting away from him. Part of him had been relieved, but the other had urged him to follow. Evidently, the latter had won out. He couldn't fully explain his need to follow her, or his need to talk to her again, but an unknown force within drove him on.

He found her sitting on a rock by the lake, the chilly breeze occasionally blowing her brown waves. He stood at a distance, staring as he did often until he remembered that there was no one around and he could actually approach her.

As he neared the boulder, he intentionally broke a stick under his foot.

Hermione turned with a start. "You!" she seethed. "Can't you just desist?"

"No," he said curtly.

Her nostrils flared as she stared daggers at him. "What did I ever do to you to deserve this?"

He pretended to think about it. "Normally, I'd say you were born, but I've got more important reasons at the moment."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not _this_ again."

"Yes, this again!" he spat venomously. "You've done something to me and I want to know what!"

"I haven't done anything, Malfoy! Why can't you accept that?" she yelled back.

"Because…" he let his words drop. He didn't really want to explain why he couldn't accept it. He just couldn't. He couldn't possibly have true feelings for her. It just wasn't _natural_!

"Because you want me," she mocked his words from the previous day.

"No!" he yelled with a new fervor, surprising even himself. "This is _not_ real! It's…" his eyes widened in near insanity. "It's _witchcraft_!"

Even from where he stood, Draco could see a new hatred light her eyes. "Get _over_ yourself, you arrogant bloody bastard!" she screamed. "I have not done a thing to you! If I'd do anything I'd curse you!"

His expression softened unconsciously. Again the venom in her eyes struck a chord within him. For once, he looked at her, actually looked. The eyes that had started his unfortunate infatuation were now shining with unshed tears. Whether they were tears of anger or hurt he wasn't sure. Logic leaned toward the former, but the current state of his soul almost wished for hurt.

Her clenched jaw relaxed and she shifted uncomfortably under his intense gaze. Maybe he'd finally come to terms. But even that was little comfort. "Don't look at me like that," she requested quietly.

"It's not witchcraft?" he tried one more time.

"No," she assured him, raising her jaw before adding, "and I'll ask that you not imply that no one could like me unless I put him under a spell."

_Oh, so that's why she'd been so upset_. "I, uh, unfortunately know from personal experience that that is not true." The words left his mouth before he realized what he was saying.

Hermione looked down. She honestly wasn't sure whether she should be flattered or suspicious of what he'd just said. Though one look at his face told her that he had not meant to say such a thing; therefore showing the validity of his revelation. "Malfoy?" she said, pulling him out of his reverie.

"What?" he probed when she didn't say anything.

"I don't even know what to say." She shook her head. "You hate me."

Draco snorted sardonically, "Apparently not."

Hermione crossed her arms and debated over her next words. At that moment the reality of the situation had yet to sink in. "What are we going to do about this then?" she asked after a sufficient silence.

"Do?" he repeated in confusion.

"Yes, do. You say you like me, so what are you going to…" her words faltered as she realized what she'd just said. For a moment she couldn't even articulate a thought. "Bloody hell, you _like_ me!" she exclaimed and fell back onto the boulder she'd been previously sitting on. "But—But you're Malfoy, you hate me! I hate you! How could this have happened?" she was practically raving.

"I'm not too thrilled about it either," Draco defended himself as he took a tentative step toward her. He wasn't sure what he should do. She was obviously upset by this realization, but Draco doubted that anything he could say or do would make it any easier to digest.

"Now I wish it were witchcraft," she snorted. "Because then I could stop it."


	4. Secrets

A/N: Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Chapter Four: Secrets**

Now that she knew Draco's reason for staring, Hermione became even more uncomfortable, if that were possible. She'd only told Zofia about what had transpired by the lake. It was ironic how she'd trust some she'd known for barely two weeks instead of the best friends she'd had since her first year, but she knew them well enough to know that they wouldn't take the news so well. They'd most likely want to lure him to a dark corridor and…

She shuddered. That, of course, had been her reaction at first, but then he'd shown her a whole new side. A side that a few days ago she could never have imagined possible; in all honestly, she was still finding it hard to believe. She chanced a furtive glance across the Great Hall at the Slytherin table.

A surprising surge of jealousy pulsed through her when she saw Pansy Parkinson push a lock of his white-blonde hair away from his face. Her eyes narrowed at the pug-faced girl just as Draco looked over at her. He shot a glance at Pansy then rolled his gray eyes, causing an involuntary grin to come to Hermione's lips.

"_Hermione_," Ginny whispered abrasively from her seat on the bench. "What're you doing?"

"What?" she asked innocently.

Ginny's eyes widened. "_You_ were staring at _Malfoy_!"

"No," she corrected. "I was _glaring_ at him."

Ginny shook her head. "No, you were _grinning_ at him. Did I miss something?"

A definite blush came to Hermione's cheeks. "I'll tell you in the common room."

When she ate the last of her lunch, Hermione deliberately went straight to the library, which was honestly her routine. It had become Draco's too, apparently, because it wasn't long before he followed her through the doors. Their eyes met across the room, but no further acknowledgement was made between them. This wasn't lost on Ginny as she walked to the table and sat down beside Hermione. "Spill," she demanded.

"There's nothing to _spill," _Hermione assured her calmly, "honestly, Ginny!"

"Rubbish," retorted Ginny. "Last week you were nearly scared senseless; yet, this week you're grinning at him at lunch!" She looked at Draco (who quickly averted his eyes) then back to Hermione. "Something happened."

Hermione shrugged noncommittally. "We had a small chat."

Ginny snorted, "That must've some chat!"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione stood and walked to the group of shelves that contained books on Arithmacy. The two rows of shelves were at the end of an aisle in the furthest corner of the library, completely out of sight from everyone else. Considering this, Hermione couldn't help but feel a small surge of fear when Malfoy cornered her. "So, uh, what were you and young Weasleby whispering about?"

Hermione looked into his pale eyes and weighed her words carefully, "Shove off, Malfoy."

Something flashed in his eyes. Was that hurt? "We're back to this?"

Her eyes widened. "We never left this!"

Draco took hold of the shelves on either side of her, completely caging her in. Hermione's breath became rushed as she stared into his stormy eyes. What she saw in them literally scared the crap out of her. There was no dishonesty, no glint of erroneous sentiment, for once, there was only sincerity. She could have sworn it was an eternity as they stood there, their faces centimeters apart.

Then he kissed her…

By the time Hermione opened her eyes, Draco was smirking down at her, a pale eyebrow arched triumphantly. "That's what I thought." He gently cuffed her chin with the pad of his thumb and walked back down the aisle…leaving Hermione utterly speechless.

* * * *

An hour later, as Hermione walked to her Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, she swore she could still detect the lingering taste of Draco on her lips. She met Harry and Ron, who'd obviously had a recent snogging session with Lavender from the disheveled look of his hair, as she entered, but she didn't notice the shared expression on their faces when they saw her. "You okay, Hermione?" asked Harry.

She looked up, surprised, as if she hadn't noticed him before then. "I'm fine."

He looked at her skeptically as Snape swept into the room and started their lesson. Not even Snape's cruel arrogance seemed to be able to take the subtle smile from Hermione's face. This wasn't lost on Professor Snape, who took great joy in seeing the disgusted terror on his student's faces. He finished a particularly gruesome story and looked to the loathsome know-it-all to find her still looking quite winsome. "Miss Granger!" he roared from the front of the classroom. "Is it going to be your constant habit to daydream in my class? Do you find the Defense Against the Dark Arts to be beneath you?"

This brought her out of her reverie. "N-no, Professor," she quickly assured him, fighting against the boiling anger that was building within her. Damn Malfoy! How could his kiss have affected her so much? She should have slapped him! Instead, he now knew that she was starting to like him too. She subconsciously shook her head. No, she didn't like Malfoy…she couldn't.

"Five points from Gryffindor for Miss Granger's inability to pay attention!" Snape told the class viperously.

Heat rose in her cheeks, giving the look of an embarrassed blush. She chanced a surreptitious glance across the room at Malfoy, whom she very well expected to see grinning at her smugly… but he wasn't. He was looking at her with what seemed to be compassion, a look that had obviously never crossed his features before.

That was nearly her downfall. _Why does he have to look so handsome?_ she asked herself. Again she felt the almost tangible touch of his lips as they stared at each other. A gasp from the class brought her attention back to the lesson. Snape had unveiled yet another macabre depiction of someone under a curse or potion, Hermione hadn't exactly been paying attention so she didn't know what the problem was, all she knew was it looked very painful.

"…Two rolls of parchment due Monday," bellowed Snape from behind his moving photo.

Hermione began to panic… two rolls of parchment on what? She left the classroom, taking care to notice that Malfoy had also missed it because he was talking to Professor Snape about the topic. She looked around the corridor for Ron. She found him lip locked with Lavender and she remembered that she was upset with him. Though, this time the sight of the snogging couple didn't make her stomach turn. _Then again_, she thought_, I can't exactly tell them the reason why I no longer care about their relationship._ She'd just have to ask Harry in the common room.

A shiver ran down her spine as someone stopped directly behind her. "'The affects of the Irresolutus potion'," a voice she recognized as Draco's quoted. "That's the essay."

When she turned around he was already moving down the corridor.

* * * *

After her last lesson of the day she made a short trip to the common room to ask Harry if she'd gotten the correct information from Malfoy. Surprisingly, she had. For a while she considered staying in the common room to finish the essay, but then she'd seen Ron and Lavender in their favorite chair and decided to go to the library. She was no longer jealous; she was just flat out disgusted.

She was glad to see Zofia sitting at the usual table. She sat down across from her friend, a subtle smile playing at her lips.

"You look like someone with a secret," she determined as soon as Hermione sat down.

A blush crept up her cheeks. "Is it obvious?"

Zofia's eyes widened excitedly. "What happened?"

Looking around nervously, she leaned closer. "He kissed me," she admitted. "_and_ he told me the topic of the essay when I missed it."

"Compared to the kiss, that last part was a little disappointing," Zofia said bluntly. "How was the kiss?"

"It was great, but don't you see?" Zofia shook her head. "He helped me; honestly helped me and he didn't rub it in my face. I never thought it was in him."

"So do you fancy him then?" she challenged.

"That shall remain a secret," Hermione said firmly.

Zofia put her hands up in mock surrender as Hermione dove into her bag for the appropriate book. When she sat up a crumbled piece of parchment hit her full in the face. After getting over her shock, she grabbed the parchment and looked around suspiciously. Malfoy stared at her from the next table, not smirking or sniggering, just looking. She felt prompted to open the ball. A short note was scratched onto the torn piece. It read: _Meet me in ten minutes…you know where: a private room. _

Before looking up she debated on whether or not she should go. He had pretty much proven his sincerity, but she wasn't quite sure why he wanted to meet with her privately. In all honestly, she didn't really want to. Upon looking up, she saw the question in his eyes. While keeping eye contact, she wrote her reply, balled up the wrinkled parchment and threw it back, hitting Malfoy right between the eyes.

A few minutes later she gathered her books and stuffed them into her bag.

Zofia looked up at her in surprise. "Where are you going?"

"Uh, Harry wanted some help on the essay," she lied. Even with Snape as a teacher Harry still out did her in Defense Against the Dark Arts. As she left the library she noticed that Malfoy was no longer at the table. Her legs were strictly on autopilot as she made her way to the seventh floor corridor in which the Room of Requirement resided.

Looking around to make sure no one was lurking nearby; she inhaled deeply and began to pace repeating, "I need a private room," three times. When the door appeared, she debated one last time and pushed it open.

Draco felt a thousand butterflies release in his stomach when the door behind him opened. He stood to see a very nervous looking Hermione leaning against the door. Not knowing exactly what he was going to do, he walked toward her.

"Wh-what do you want?" she stammered, uncertainty most apparent in her voice.

He was hardly cognizant of his actions until he was gently pressing his lips to hers. Warmth spread through him as she reciprocated and even rested her hands on his chest. He was momentarily afraid she meant push him away, but she melted into his embrace as his hands fell to possess her waist.

When he finally broke away, his patented smirk came to his lips. "That's what I wanted."

"Oh," she breathed excitedly.

He leaned in again…but she stopped him, "Wait…"

"What?" he demanded in panic. "Don't you fancy me?"

"I fancy you plenty," she assured him without thinking. "That's not what I meant. Is this all you wanted?"

His smirk turned into a teasing grin. "Well, I thought you'd want to wait…"

Hermione arched an intimidating eyebrow. "You haven't forgotten third year, have you?"

Stepping back at the memory, he made sure a good distance remained between them. "What do you mean then?" he asked, turning in frustration.

"You're just like Ron!" she accused and Draco spun around instantly. "I knew that would get your attention," she explained. "Did you only ask me here so you could snog me?"

The look that came to his pale face was absolutely comical. "Isn't that what we're supposed to do?"

She snorted, "No! Honestly, we're nearly adults, you know." She tentatively walked to a chair and sat down. Pointing her wand at the dark fire place, she lit a merry fire that looked like it had been burning for hours. "We're supposed to have conversations and… just enjoy each other's company," she explained whimsically.

He snorted. "I thought you only read text books," he questioned sardonically.

Hermione stood from the chair and turned away from him. "I thought you were serious about this," she challenged subtly. She already knew how to get what she wanted from him. And there was no way he was going to back out after he'd made her fall for him.

"I am!" he answered defensively.

"Then start acting like it," she whimpered. From where she stood, she heard the swoosh of his robes as he sat in the chair she'd just vacated.

"Alright then, let's have a conversation," he demanded in grumpy frustration.

Smiling inwardly to herself, she turned back to him and sat triumphantly on the settee. "What's it like to know you're a wizard your whole life?" she inquired immediately, almost too enthusiastically.

He arched a pale eyebrow. "What's it like to be a muggle?"

The smile slid from her face and her shoulders slumped. "I was serious," she admonished defensively.

"As was I!" he exploded almost desperately. "_This_ is why we shouldn't have conversations."

He did have a point, they both knew it. He jumped over and sat next to her on the settee. He tentatively touched her cheek and this time she didn't stop him as he leaned in to kiss her softly. Much to her relief, he broke it after a few moments. Their faces were centimeters apart when she asked the question on both of their minds. "How did this happen?" she breathed. "We're enemies, we're meant to hate each other, and yet…"

Gently leaning his forehead to hers, Draco finished, "We can't get enough of each other."

**A/N: Mmmm hmmmm.....review?**


	5. Happy Christmas

A/N: Everything, except the stuff that you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius. (and there's a line from Star Wars: Episode II)

**Chapter Five: Happy Christmas**

Over the next weeks, the secret meetings between Draco and Hermione became more and more frequent. Between his schoolwork, working in the room of requirement, and trying to have a successful, secret relationship with Hermione, Draco was under more stress than he'd ever been in his entire life. When he looked in the mirror he could see dark circles under his eyes and he was beginning to forget what a full night's sleep was like.

Conversations with Hermione still proved difficult even after they'd been together for a couple of weeks. She was still too defensive at everything he said, and he admitted that he was still pretty offensive as well. But enjoying each other's company came almost too easily. Hermione would sit on the settee in front of the fire and read massive tomes with Draco's arm around her. He found it most distracting, but completing his schoolwork perfectly became the very last thing on his mind.

On one such occasion, Hermione smiled at him from the desk in the corner. She had been furiously writing an essay for the past half-hour, and she'd demanded that he do the same on the coffee table. If they did them side by side, they'd never get any work done. Draco knew she was right, but it didn't make him happy about it.

His essay was three-fourths of the way done. When Hermione's attention went back to her essay, Draco silently left his seat and walked to the desk. He knew she'd noticed, but she didn't say anything. He pulled her hair to one side and tenderly kissed her neck, causing her to shiver.

"You're distracting me," she whispered, but he could hear the smile in her voice.

"You're done," he reminded her.

She turned around and stood up, Draco's arms automatically engulfing her waist. "You should've been in Slytherin," he said.

Hermione, whose head had been resting on his chest, looked up at him in almost hostile skepticism. "Why?"

"It would be very beneficial," he explained. "Most importantly, we wouldn't have to be so secretive,"

"But it's so fun!" she argued sarcastically.

Taking her hand, he led her to the couch and pulled her back into his arms. "Snape wouldn't yell at you so much,"

"True,"

"And we'd actually win the house cup because Slytherin would get points for every answer you got right."

"That one only benefits you!" she laughed. "Besides, you're forgetting one—no, two important things," she reminded him.

"You're muggle-born and…?"

"I'm not evil and cunning."

"Oh, right, because we're all evil," he said, trying not to sound offended…or guilty. "And you are cunning. You've broken more school rules than I have." He was surprised when she actually nestled up to him and didn't take his statement offensively. Maybe they were making progress.

"I did have good reason to break them, you know," she defended after awhile. "And that's why I belong in Gryffindor. I don't break the rules just to be breaking them."

"We just had a conversation," he realized. "Can I kiss you now?"

Hermione replied by pressing her lips to his, surprising him. But even as he deepened the kiss, it somehow felt different. He pulled away and looked into her questioning eyes. "Something's not right,"

She looked at him in astonishment… then began to grin. "You're insufferable!"

"That's more like it." He smirked. He pushed her back onto the arm of the couch and positioned himself beside her before consuming her mouth again. It was strange, he knew it, but a fluffy sort of relationship was never for him. That could explain his attraction to Hermione. They could want to curse each other one moment, and then be passionately kissing each other the next. If anything their relationship was a challenge. Not only did they have to get along when they actually came up for air, but they also had to keep it secret at all costs.

Seemingly of its own volition, Draco's hand began to creep under Hermione's skirt and up her smooth thigh.

"Draco," Hermione panted when she felt his hand, "no."

A tense silence grew between them as Draco retracted his hand. The sound of his name breathed from her lips made it that much harder. As he searched her brown eyes he could see the fear she was trying to hide. Whether she feared the intimate moment they'd just shared, or it was because she was afraid of how he'd react to her refusal, he didn't know. But his stomach lurched nevertheless because either way he had caused it.

Hermione pulled at her skirt self-consciously. "Maybe I should go."

Draco didn't know what to say, or how to stop her. He'd crossed the line and he knew it.

* * * *

Over the next two days, Hermione found that ignoring Draco was almost too easy. Since they were supposed to hate each other anyway, no one noticed.

But Draco noticed. He noticed in the Great Hall while she talked with her irksome friends. He noticed in potions when she glared at Potter because he got compliments from Slughorn and she didn't. Most of all, he noticed in the library when they were alone…and she completely ignored him. She was freezing him out.

He was a Malfoy. He reminded himself of that fact many times a day. Yet, there he was…pinning over the Muggle-born girl he'd spent the first five years of his schooling mercilessly tormenting. He snorted to himself, "Muggle-born." The only other time he'd used that term was when he'd said it to Hermione.

_Here we go again_, his brain yelled at him. No matter what he did his thoughts kept going back to her. He fell to the floor and stared up at the damaged vanishing cabinet. The times he spent in this room with Hermione were the only thing getting him through…the only thing he ever looked forward to.

Like a storm cloud, depression fell over him with a fierce hand. He suppressed an urge to damage the cabinet even further. How could he not be mad at himself? His first attempt to fulfil his task had failed miserably! What if he always failed…?

He shuddered. He didn't even want to imagine what would happen to him if he didn't succeed. What would happen to his mum? To him? Hermione…? But she, or course, was in more danger if he did succeed.

He wouldn't be able to focus now. It was the last Hogsmeade weekend before the holidays and if he left now he could still go along with them, even though no one was expecting him. Leaving the room immediately, he practically ran to his dorm to get his cloak and then ran to the entrance where Filch was checking off the last off the students.

"Decided to go, did we?" Filch asked when he stopped him.

"Yeah." He, unlike the trio, didn't normally have a problem with Filch trying to get him in trouble.

"Go on then."

Draco ran to catch up with the other students and caught a glimpse of Hermione amongst them. Much to his relief, she was alone. He wasn't really surprised, she was supposed to be mad at Weaselby because of his—what she called—superficial relationship with some Gryffindor girl. He remembered her telling him how it was convenient because whenever she went missing, everyone thought she was just crying in a bathroom somewhere.

The walk in the cold seemed longer than usual with Hermione just out of reach, not that he could walk with her if he wanted to. They finally reached the wizard village. Draco went directly to the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer and a little time to plan. Hermione was alone; he needed to talk to her as soon as possible.

When he left the establishment, the chance practically fell into his hands. Hermione was walking toward the shrieking shack…unaccompanied. He looked around to make sure no one noticed as he slipped through the crowd to follow her.

He found her sitting on a boulder just outside the fence. She was hunched over; head in her hands, and Draco could hear the soft sound of her sobs. The snow crunched under his feet. She looked up as he neared, her flustered cheeks stained with frozen tears. He ran to her side and knelt down. Tentatively he wiped her cheeks as she just stared at him in awe.

"Please tell me you're a miserable as I am," he whispered with pleading eyes.

Closing her eyes, Hermione pushed her cheek into his hand and nodded.

Draco sighed in utter relief as he pulled her into his arms. "I'm sorry," he breathed into her hair.

Hermione pulled his head back and looked into his eyes for a fleeting moment before she kissed him. He wasn't quite sure what he'd said, but it worked. Draco found himself lost in her touch as he deepened the kiss; for once, he didn't care that they could get caught.

Until…"Hermione!" someone yelled, not five feet away.

Draco immediately fell backward, landing hard in the snow. "Oh, shit!"

"Calm down," Hermione admonished. "Zofia knows."

His eyes widened incredulously. "You told someone?"

"When I told her I didn't realize it would be anything serious," she explained. "She won't tell."

"Uh," Zofia interrupted. "Some people are coming this way, so I thought…"

"Oh, thanks, Zofia." Hermione stood up quickly. "Bye."

"Meet me tonight," said Draco before she walked away. She turned and smiled at him; she'd be there.

* * * *

Draco paced in front of the wall and hurriedly entered when the door appeared. He couldn't wait to get inside and talk to Hermione. At first, he'd just been glad they were no longer in a quarrel, but he'd just heard some interesting gossip.

Not five minutes ago he'd eaves-dropped on a conversation between Potter and Weaselby. Normally, the red-head's discontent would delight him, but not this time.

"How can she go with him?" Weasley had yelled from around the corner.

"Who?" Potter asked.

"Cormac McLaggen!"

Draco had smiled, his white teeth practically glittering in the light of the corridor, until…

"Hermione can go with whoever she wants, Ron."

Even now it made his blood boil.

Hermione sat in a chair by the fire, book in her lap, and looked up at his entrance. The glow of the firelight made her look so innocent and soft. But Draco did his best to ignore that.

"I heard something rather interesting in the corridor just now," he began immediately.

Her eyes dimmed. "Really? About whom?"

"You," he answered in feigned brightness. "It seems that Weasel in under the impression that you are going to Slughorn's Christmas party with Cormac McLaggen."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione went back to her book. "I wonder what gave him that idea," she muttered sarcastically.

"You can't go with him!"

"Draco! Now you really do sound like Ron!" she yelled.

Much to her surprise, he didn't move to break anything; on the contrary, he agreed, "Maybe he has a point."

"What?" she managed to squeak. "Did you think I would take you?"

He looked down guiltily and shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "I know you can't, I just don't want my girlfriend to go out with some other guy."

He heard a book close and the next thing he knew Hermione was standing in front of him, a huge smile on her face. "You just called me your girlfriend," she said and he nodded. "You've never called me your girlfriend before."

Wrapping his arms around her waist, Draco planted a soft kiss on her lips. "So?"

"I wish I could take you but we both know why I can't."

He let go and turned away from her. "Yeah, but McLaggen?"

Hermione blushed before revealing, "I only did it because I figured he'd upset Ron the most."

His smirk returned but he didn't face her. "And as happy as that makes me, I still don't like it."

"It doesn't mean anything," she assured him. "and if he tries anything—"

"I'll make him wish he'd never been born."

* * * *

Mistletoe. How could she forget? It was a Christmas party; of course Slughorn would find it amusing to hang mistletoe…everywhere. And Cormac, who was nothing short of a cretin, seemed to be especially good at getting her under it.

On the fourth such occasion, Hermione narrowly escaped his lips and fled into the crowd. Harry and Luna had to be there somewhere. She shouldn't have let her feelings towards Ron effect her judgement. If Draco knew what Cormac was up to, he'd curse him. Then again, maybe that wouldn't be so bad.

She finally found Harry through the crowd. "Ah, I'm so glad to see you," she panted.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" asked Luna with her wide, dreamy eyes.

"It's Cormac, he keeps trying to kiss me under the mistletoe. And it's everywhere!" She looked around like a fugitive and spotted his head. "Let's move." She pushed them in the other direction.

"Regret it?" Harry asked in almost smug satisfaction.

Hermione defended herself as the three of them got some mead. Harry didn't at all understand her reasons; he was only concerned with how her actions would affect Ron's Quidditch game. Quidditch! She was absolutely tired of hearing about Quidditch! Sure, Draco was on the Slytherin team, but he hardly ever talked about it. Maybe that's why she liked him.

She was going on about their obsession with Quidditch when she saw Cormac's head again. The last she wanted was for him to catch her. "Here he comes," she groaned and escaped through the people.

For the next few minutes she just dodged around other partygoers, always making sure she was heading away from McLaggen. As she looked around, she caught sight of a white-blonde head being led to Professor Slughorn. "Oh, Draco…" she breathed and pushed to get a better view.

"All right, I wasn't invited!" Draco spat as he pulled away from Filch. "I was trying to gatecrash, happy?"

Hermione didn't hear Filch's response. Draco looked in her direction and their eyes locked.

Draco wasn't too upset until he saw Hermione and the disappointment in her eyes. Just that afternoon he'd promised her he wouldn't do anything stupid, yet, there he was doing the stupidest thing he could have done.

"…forget any punishment; you may stay, Draco." Slughorn was saying.

Draco frowned. He didn't really want to stay. He didn't want to see Hermione with McLaggen. It was easy to ignore it when he was in his room, but if he actually saw them, it would be hard to hold in his jealousy and anger.

Remembering he should be grateful, he composed himself and thanked Slughorn. After awkward pleasantries had been exchanged, he looked at Snape, who didn't look too happy either. _Great_, Draco thought, _he thinks I was working and got caught._

Snape requested to have _a word_ with him. Draco inwardly rolled his eyes; he was sure he wanted more than a word. He followed nevertheless. He was only half-right. Snape suspected that he was behind the attack on Katie Bell. Draco really had to control his thoughts on that one. Who else would do it? It was a pathetic attempt, he knew it, but he'd been pretty distracted in the past months.

Draco tried to control his thoughts and his anger as Snape went on. He just wanted the credit; if it weren't for the consequences, Draco would let him do it. But there were consequences, and as much as he didn't want to do it, he had no choice. When Snape brought up his father he'd had enough.

* * * *

Even though she was away from her friends, Hermione usually enjoyed spending the Holiday's with her parents. Not this year. The Christmas party with Cormac had been a disaster and she'd left right after Snape had led out Draco. At the station she'd barely gotten to say good-bye to Ginny and Harry, and Ron had been too busy to notice.

She pulled the blankets closer to her chin and sighed. Her digital alarm clock read a quarter past three in the morning but she still couldn't sleep. For some reason it just didn't feel like Christmas this year. Maybe it was because she hadn't gotten to say anything to Draco before they'd left. The first time she'd had a serious boyfriend around the Holidays and she hadn't even been able to wish him a Happy Christmas.

A sharp tap on her window startled her. She swung her legs over the edge of her bed and gapped at her window. A cloaked Draco was hovering on his broom just outside. Pulling on her robe, she rushed to open the window and let him fly in. Before she could ask or yell anything he had pulled her into a desperate kiss.

When he finally pulled away it was simply to catch his breath. "Did you fly all the way here on your broom?" she asked, taking advantage of the break.

"Yeah," he breathed. "I wanted to give you this." He pulled a small, wrapped box from his cloak and handed it to her.

"But I didn't get you anything."

Draco shrugged. "Oddly enough, I don't care."

She smiled in a way that made him wonder what she was thinking and tore into the small parcel. Inside was a necklace with a fine platinum chain and an oval locket. She subconsciously dropped the box as she took the locket in her hands and gently pried it open. It held a picture of him in his Quidditch robes, smirking as usual, but the other side was blank. "It's beautiful, thank you."

"My mum helped pick it out," he explained. It was the first time he'd actually bought a gift for someone else.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Your mum?"

"I told her it was for Pansy." He shuddered.

She couldn't help but laugh at his look of disgust even though she felt the same way about the girl. "I hate it when she touches you," she admitted quietly.

"You?" he snorted. "I'm the one she's touching!" Hermione laughed. "Hey, it's not funny!"

"Shh, you'll wake my parents."

"Right," he sighed. "I should probably get back before someone notices I'm gone." He wrapped his arms around her waist once more and kissed her. This, of course, made him even more loath to leave. "Happy Christmas, Hermione," he breathed and begrudgingly climbed onto his broom.

"Happy Christmas," she said, regretful that he had to go.

During the trip there he'd tried to convince himself that what he felt for her was purely physical. He just wanted an intimate relationship with someone who hadn't snogged half the wizards at Hogwarts. But Hermione wasn't the only respectable witch and if all he wanted was physical, she was the last person he'd go for.

As the cold air blew against his face he realized just how pathetic that argument was; he'd just flown hundreds of miles to wish her a Happy Christmas.

**A/N: This is my favourite chapter of the whole story! It was such a joy to write (and it went to well with the story!). So...did you like it? Let me know!**


	6. Together

A/N: Everything, except the stuff you don't' recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**A/N**: This chapter is rated R for sexual content. Even though I tend to write in euphemisms, if you find this offensive, I'm sorry, but please don't read on. Thanks.

**Chapter Six: Together**

It was finally Friday. Hermione sat in her Arithmacy class and fingered her locket. For two weeks she'd been concealing it under her shirt, but it was never far from her mind. Neither was the person who'd given it to her.

She'd barely been able to talk to Draco all week. They hadn't arranged to meet that night, but she planned on going to the room anyway. She hoped he'd show up too.

Two hours later she was sitting across from a roaring fire, her Arithmacy book in her lap. He would be there; she knew it. He wouldn't be expecting to find her, but he'd be there. She was right.

Hermione immediately looked up when the door in the corner opened with a bang. Her pulse quickened without her consent when she saw Draco enter and make his way toward the settee on which she sat. In the glow of the firelight she could see that he wasn't exactly happy. But then, he hadn't been happy very often all year. She subconsciously moved back in her seat and tried to mask her disconcertment.

"What're you doing in here?" he asked, surprising her with the calmness of his tone.

"Uh," she faltered momentarily. "Research." She wasn't particularly sure why she'd just lied to him, but she still didn't trust him completely. Sure, they'd been together for nearly three and a half months, but that didn't mean she was going to trust him with how she really felt. She was loath to admit it to herself. Besides, he was still a Slytherin and a Malfoy.

A pale eyebrow arched, he'd seen right through her. "Research," he repeated with a nod. Sitting on the coffee table in front of her, he bore into her with knowing eyes. "So you weren't waiting for me to come in here and find you?"

She shifted uncomfortably under his intense stare. Of course she'd been waiting for him! What else would she be doing in that room? She knew her lie had been flimsy at best; he of all people knew she did all of her research in the library. Without noticing, her breath became labored and she crossed her legs tightly. "No,"

If he hadn't caught on before, her breathless lie gave her away. Draco gently placed his hands on her knees and slowly closed the space between them, keeping his eyes locked with hers. "You didn't want me to…"

The almost imperceptible touch of his lips on hers caused a sensation of ecstasy to run ramped throughout her entire body. She'd never known it could be like this… that _he_ could be like this. As he backed away, eyes still locked, a small smirk came to her lips. "No,"

There was no trace of humor or teasing in his tempestuous gray eyes as he took one of her hands and kissed the palm. He looked so much older, so much more mature than she knew him to be. She closed her eyes to break the almost tangible connection between them; it was just too much for her to handle. Whatever she'd expected when she'd come here, this wasn't exactly it.

When she opened her eyes his face was dangerously close again. She automatically put her finger on his lips to stop him. "No!" Quickly getting to her feet, the book in her lap crashed to the floor. She walked several meters from him before she chanced turning around to face him. "What's happening here?" she challenged breathlessly.

As he stood to approach her, she instinctively turned from him. She couldn't face him when she felt like this… couldn't chance him kissing her again. His arms wrapped around her waist from behind and she could feel his warm, labored breath on her ear as he kissed her neck…her weak spot. "I think you know…"

Taking a firm hold on her hips, he turned her in his embrace. It seemed like an eternity before their lips met. Soft and slow at first, it wasn't long before Draco had had enough. He pulled her closer, deepening his kiss as she granted him access to her mouth. He had dreamed of this moment for months. He hoped he wasn't dreaming now.

Draco's hold on her was bone crushing, yet she still wanted to be closer to him. She pushed her hands over his chest and into his pale hair. His mouth consumed hers, preventing her from breathing, but she couldn't bring herself to pull away. As he began to kiss a line from her mouth to her neck, she threw her head back to give him greater admission.

He could feel her whole body tremble as he gently caressed her breast. He was as much a novice at this as she was, but he'd never admit it to her. He needed her; he needed to be with her…like this. "Let me make love to you…" he whispered seductively in her ear.

As he brought his head back to look into her eyes, Hermione desperately searched his eyes for any sign of humor, but instead found a burning need that matched her own. Even if she wanted to she couldn't have said no, but her conscious wouldn't seem to let her say yes.

"Hermione…"

Her affirmation was a kiss; a kiss in which she fused everything she was feeling, everything she desperately hoped he would accept with the delicacy it deserved. She didn't know why but when he said her name, especially in the sultry way he did, she couldn't deny him anything. Even the most precious thing she possessed.

Draco reluctantly pulled away and momentarily looked down at her. Damn, she was beautiful, especially in the firelight. Just the sound of her excited breath tantalized his very being. Suddenly he realized the extent of what he'd been feeling for the past few months. He loved her.

Pulling out his wand, he pointed at the emerald divan and it immediately transformed into a queen-sized bed. Hermione's hold on his hand tightened. As they reached the bed, Draco looked in her eyes. He could see the torrent of emotions flooding the brown pools; he felt them too. He only hoped he concealed them better, but he doubted it. "You're so amazing," he whispered as he tenderly ran a finger down her jaw line.

But when he saw the pure innocence that was emitted from every inch of her, he felt the need to be sure. True, she hadn't said no, but she most definitely had not said yes. "You don't have to do this," he assured her compassionately. "I'm not pressuring you."

"I-I know…" She surprised him by pulling his head down to meet hers. She was sure, but if he asked her again then her underlying fear get the best of her.

Draco lowered her back onto the bed. As long as they were kissing, Hermione could ignore the fact that he was unbuttoning her shirt, or that he probably expected her to do the same in return. Then she realized that as if they had a mind of their own, her fingers were already doing just that.

His pale chest was warm under her hands as she pushed his shirt over his shoulders. When her own shirt came off, she was surprised to find she didn't feel as shy as she thought she would. It felt normal… right. She smiled at Draco coyly as he threw her bra on the floor and eyed her bare chest. She could feel his excitement pressing into her thigh and she found it hard to breathe. This was really happening; he was going to make love to her…and she couldn't wait.

Her fingers lightly trailed down his chest to his belt and she unbuckled it in no time. One of Draco's arms propped him up and the other pulled on her skirt. Hermione lifted her hips so he could slip it off. At the same time he kicked off his trousers as he kissed her collarbone. Only a very thin piece of fabric separated them now.

Hermione's heart thundered in her chest. Was she really ready? Did she really want him to? She looked into his eyes; she swore she could see the same uncertainty. But she also saw the same want… same need. She needed him to be inside her…physically… emotionally… spiritually.

Moments later her knickers were off and he was kissing her again. She pushed her hips against him. Now she was truly sure; now she needed it. He stared into her eyes as he cautiously pushed into her.

She inhaled sharply. "Gently," she whimpered as he pushed further.

Draco closed his eyes with pleasure. Even if this were a dream he'd at least wake up happy. He was with her, finally. But as he held himself over her, gently pumping, he knew it was more than a physical need that he was satisfying. He loved her and somehow he had to prove it to her.

She moaned under him as he licked her neck. "Draco…"

**A/N: I know it seems like things are moving fast between Draco and Hermione, but let me assure you that their intimacy is crucial to the plot. However....if you did like it....review? :)**


	7. Reality

**A/N**: Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**A/N**: This chapter is rated R for sexual content. If you find this offensive, I'm sorry, but please don't read on. Thanks.

**Chapter Seven: Reality**

Hermione slowly opened her eyes. The smile on her face faded as she realized she was still in the room of requirement. It had to be at least nine o'clock. Granted, it was Saturday, but someone was bound to notice that she wasn't inside the curtains of her bed.

She turned over to see Draco smiling at her. "It's five o'clock," he told her before she could ask. "Good morning." He kissed her.

"Morning? I've only been asleep for three hours." She yawned.

His hand moved under the sheets, a mischievous grin on his face. "We still have three hours before we should leave."

She looked at him in feigned confusion. "What's your point?"

He kissed her shoulder and made his way to her lips. In moments Hermione was pressing into him with the same excitement she'd felt the night before. When they collapsed back onto the bed once more, Draco glanced over at her as she caught her breath. The subtle layer of perspiration on her skin reflected the firelight causing her to literally glow. "I love you," he whispered.

"What?"

He hesitated. "I-I love you."

Hermione searched his eyes. Nothing seemed different like it was described in books; he looked at her the way he always did when they were alone. Maybe he'd always…

"I know I sound mental; you don't have to say anything." He kissed her. "I just thought I should tell you."

Letting his arms pull her to his chest, she nestled up to him. "We have a bond now, you know."

"That's kind of what I was attempting to express."

Hermione rolled her eyes and ignored him. "Call me whimsical, but we do. We both gave each other something we can't give anyone else."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think—?"

Hermione challenged him with a raised eyebrow of her own.

"Oh, fine, I was a virgin, too," he admitted.

He felt a soft kiss on his chest. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his left arm where it rested on the mattress. More specifically, he could see the distinct mark on his wrist. If Hermione ever found out, she'd never speak to him again. Well, that probably wasn't true. She'd talk to him; she'd insult him and torment him to the end of his sanity. Most likely though, she'd turn him in. He wouldn't blame her if she did.

"I'm glad," she whispered.

For a second, Draco wasn't sure what she was commenting on, the fact that he'd been a virgin or that he wouldn't blame her if she turned him in. Either way, he agreed, "Yeah, me too."

* * * *

Hermione couldn't stop smiling. _It's a good thing it's Saturday_, she thought as she sat smiling in the library. If she were in DADA right now Snape would probably yell at her for smiling so much. Zofia was sitting across from her, intently studying her Ancient Runes and not noticing how dazed her friend looked. But a sigh from Hermione elicited her attention. "Why are you smiling so much?" she asked suspiciously.

"I'm just happy."

"Uh huh, and why?" Hermione blushed. "Did you…?" Zofia's eyes widened. "You did!"

"Shh, you can't tell anyone," Hermione reminded her hastily.

"That's a given, but wow. I never thought you had it in you." Zofia mouthed 'Malfoy' as she shook her head.

"It's not as if I planned it; it just happened," Hermione defended herself.

"Did you do anything to stop it?"

"Well, no," she admitted. "But you don't understand what it's like with him. When he talks to me the way he does, I can't say no."

Zofia's green eyes became concerned. "You know, I don't think that's a good thing."

"You think I don't know that? I just can't help it."

A tall shadow was thrown over their table. "What's the matter, Granger?" an all-too-familiar voice sneered behind her. "Finally give Potter what he wants?"

She slowly turned around to face Malfoy, who was tailed by Crabbe and Goyle as ever. Venom filled her eyes with the same intensity that happiness had just moments before. The irony that the same person had elicited both emotions so strongly wasn't lost on her.

When she didn't respond, Crabbe and Goyle punched each other stupidly and followed their pale leader out of the library. "You're gonna regret that, Malfoy," she threatened through clenched teeth. "You're gonna regret the day you took advantage of Hermione Granger."

* * * *

Draco had implored her to meet him again that night. She checked her reflection in the mirror to make sure she looked perfect. She wasn't going to let what happened in the library stop her from going, but she had a feeling that Draco was going to be a little disappointed when she got there.

No one was in the corridor, so she pushed through the door. A fire had already been lit in the fireplace. Draco stood staring into the flames serenely; it almost made Hermione question her determination. Then he smiled and began to walk toward her. "That was some good acting," he complimented. "I almost believed that you wanted to curse me."

"Really?" she asked brightly. Then her face changed, quickly and drastically. "That was real."

He began to look concerned. "What do you mean?"

"How dare you!" she screamed and starting hitting him wherever she possibly could. "I trusted you! You told me you loved me so you could use me!"

"Hermione, stop!" he pleaded and ran from her. "I do love you! I didn't mean that stuff; I thought you knew that."

She stopped hitting him.

"Besides, I told you I love after I, uh, used you, as you say." He reminded her.

She still wasn't convinced. She hit him again. "You bastard!"

The angry look had returned to her eyes and he decided it was best to run from her again. Bravery definitely was not a Slytherin quality. "I flew," he continued, "hundreds of miles in the freezing cold to give you a Christmas present!"

This stopped her. Subconsciously her finger touched the outline of the locket under her shirt. Draco relaxed and stopped running. "No doubt you wanted to shag me then," she retorted with less fervor.

He snorted; he'd wanted to shag her long before then. "I'm sorry," he said after a good silence. "It was just a cover. If you keep smiling at me, people are bound to get suspicious." He tentatively reached out to her and she came to him willingly.

"It was just Crabbe and Goyle; they're denser than lead."

Draco cupped her face with his pale fingers. "I'm sorry," he reiterated.

There it was. Her pulse sped up and before she realized what she was doing, her lips were on his. His tongue pressed into her mouth. When he said things like that, things that were so normal, yet she knew they difficult and utterly abnormal to him, she couldn't resist him; she had to have him. It was a real problem.

As he kissed her neck, Hermione caught a glimpse of the bed in front of the fireplace. A smile parted her lips, letting a moan escape. Either the bed had just been there from the morning, or Draco had changed it in anticipation of what was to come. Hermione didn't care how it got there, she was just glad it was. And as she pushed Draco onto it, she could tell he was too.

A sudden surge of vixen-like lust pulsed through her veins. She straddled his hips and he pushed her skirt to her waist, pulling on her knickers when he reached them. Hermione tore a few buttons off his shirt in her haste to get it off, her own shirt didn't have a single remaining button on speak of.

The previous evening they'd both been full of doubt and they'd taken it slow, unknowingly easing each other into the idea other becoming so intimate with someone…so open and vulnerable. They'd had so much to lose and yet so much to give that it terrified them. What probably terrified them most, though, was not knowing if the other person felt the same; if the person they were making love to actually loved them back.

But that wasn't the case this night. They no longer had something invaluable that could never be returned, but they had everything to give. Now they were lovers who had to be together; they had to be one, not just physically, but spiritually. A force within them drove them into each other's arms with a passion they'd never known could exist.

A shiver ran down Hermione's spine as Draco kissed her neck in the way that she knew only he could ever do. Their clothes were everywhere, hanging off of different pieces of furniture and on the floor. Hermione pushed him back into the mattress, but flipped her on her back. He liked to be in charge; that aspect of his Malfoy heritage was definitely still there. Besides, as he pushed into her, she didn't really seem to mind.

Her hips pressed into him, begging for more. She couldn't get enough. Time flew and soon they were crashing back to the mattress, totally spent…for the time being.

Draco propped up his head on his arm and stared at her. She had a visible aura around her from the firelight. It was the first time in his life that blood hadn't mattered, or even been mentioned. Hermione smiled over at him. When he was with her, he forgot about the state of the world; he forgot about the Dark Lord, the mark on his arm and his task. He forgot that his family would never accept her because she was a Mudblood; hell, he forgot she was one. When he was with her he was just…with her.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice when Hermione's smile fell from her face. She'd seen it, there on his arm, clear and heartbreaking. Harry was right, not that she'd ever disagreed with him, but there was all the proof he ever needed. She'd been in complete denial.

Quickly composing her face before he registered the changed, she searched for her clothes and reached for the nearest articles: her shirt and skirt. Her bare back was exposed as she reached over the side; Draco traced a line down her spine. Feeling suddenly shy, she slipped the buttonless shirt over her shoulders and pulled it shut.

"It's a little late for modesty, isn't it?" he teased.

Hermione had to concentrate to keep her voice even. "I just need a shower."

They had discovered that morning that their private room also had a private bathroom with a shower. Hermione pulled on her knickers, which she'd just found in the sheets and decided she was at least covered.

"Are you going to leave?" he pouted.

"I need to sleep tonight, Draco," she lied. "I'm not a machine."

She escaped into the bathroom before the tears she'd been holding at bay came out in a flood. Falling back against the wall, she slowly slid to the floor. "Shit," she hissed and hit her fists on the floor. "Shit!"

Somehow she managed to stand and actually take her shower, letting the hot water run over her. Her boyfriend was a Death Eater. The man she was falling in love with was a Death Eater. She leaned her forehead against the steamy wall. No, the man she loved was a Death Eater. "Shit."

When she finally left the room, Draco kissed her. She swore his lips burned.


	8. Torn

A/N: Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

A/N: this chapter is rated R for sexual content. If you find this offensive, I'm sorry, but please don't read on.

**Chapter Eight: Torn**

Hermione collapsed onto her four-poster bed and let her tears flow freely. He was a Death Eater, that was that. Her choices were obvious, but that didn't make the debate any easier.

The next evening Hermione anxiously paced in her empty dorm. Never in her life had she been so torn. She had seen the dark mark on Draco's arm, plain as day and she hated him for it. She knew it was her responsibility to tell the headmaster… but she loved Draco. She would simply fall apart if he were sent to Azkaban because of her. On the other hand, he was up to something…something that could cause a lot of pain.

Deciding on her course of action, Hermione set out for the common room. Harry sat in a chair by the fire, pouring over the Marauder's Map as usual. She sat next to him; he'd give her the information she wanted without asking for it.

"He's in the prefect bathroom," he told her, assuming she knew he meant Malfoy.

"But he's not a prefect this year," she reminded him in confusion.

"Yeah, but he's still Malfoy."

Hermione nodded. She waited a few moments before leaving the tower. She wasn't even sure if Dumbledore was there, but if all else failed, she could always tell Professor McGonagall. As she walked down the corridor, though, her determination began to wear away. How would she sleep at night knowing she'd sent the man she loved to a terrible fate?

She stopped dead in her tracks; no, she couldn't do it. She was suddenly overcome with a powerful urge to see him. Turning around, she headed in the opposite direction toward the prefect bathroom. She really hoped he was alone.

Although she hadn't encountered anyone, she looked around anxiously as she approached the door. It was locked. She took out her wand and pointed it at the door, "Alohamora."

She stuck her head in the door to make sure he was alone. Not only was he alone, but, much to her relief, he had pants on as well. She slipped in all the way and shut the door.

Draco whipped around at the sound of the door closing. His pale, wet hair hung in his face and dripped onto his well-muscled chest. "Hermione?" he asked in astonishment. "What're you doing here?"

"I—" she hesitated. "I really needed to see you."

Quickly pulling a shirt over his shoulders, left arm first, he walked toward her without buttoning. Hermione knew he'd put the shirt on solely to conceal the mark she'd already seen, but she tried not to think about it. "Needed?" he asked. But before he reached her he must have realized how odd the situation was because he stopped. "How did you know I was here?"

Since this wasn't her original destination, she hadn't come up with a plausible lie. As it were, she simply accused him in return. "Considering that you're no longer a prefect, I could ask why you _are_ here."

He arched a pale eyebrow. "Fair enough." He closed the remaining space between them and pulled her chin up with his finger. "I think I'm rubbing off on you," he teased.

Hermione laughed tensely, "Please don't say that."

Draco tenderly cupped her face with one hand and kissed her slowly. After a few moments, though, he felt a tear touch his lips…a tear that definitely didn't belong to him. He broke away and looked at her with more concern than he'd ever felt before. "Is something wrong?"

She smiled pathetically as another tear rolled down her cheek. "No," she lied. She couldn't exactly tell him she felt guilty because she almost turned him in. Then again, they didn't exactly have a relationship based on honesty. "I just wanted to be with you," she breathed.

He didn't believe her for one second, but he didn't want to pry. He'd learned that if she wanted him to know something, she'd tell him when she was ready and not a moment before. He left her long enough to get the rest of his stuff then took her hand. She looked at him in question when he opened the door and walked into the corridor still holding her hand.

"What if someone sees?" she asked with concern.

"You can modify memories, can't you?"

She blushed. "Right."

As it were, they didn't run into anyone as they made their way to the seventh floor. She really hoped Harry had put the map away.

Another tear ran down her cheek as they entered their room, hand in hand. Draco immediately kissed her, but he felt another tear against his lips. He'd decided not to ask what was wrong, now something told him he should. "Something is wrong, Hermione," he said firmly.

"Don't talk," she demanded excitedly. "Just…" She pulled his head back down to hers. She needed to be reminded of why she was saving him, why she loved him.

Draco didn't need to be told twice. He pushed her against the wall, pressing into her with the whole length of his body. His hand moved under her skirt, tugging her knickers down until they fell to the floor around her ankles. She inhaled sharply when he slipped his fingers between her legs. Hermione instinctively undid his pants, freeing him. They were completely lost in each other.

Retracting his hand, Draco brought Hermione's legs around his waist and pushed into her. A moan from deep in her throat escaped her lips; she was enjoying this. The wall definitely had its advantages. Her hands pulled at his hair and kept his head to her neck.

Her back arched out from the wall as her climax hit. She had reasons now; she'd made the right decision.

A/N: Sorry this chapter is so short. Hermione may seem like just a lusty teen, but she's really not. She just needed to know that she was making the right decision.


	9. Confession's Aftermath

A/N: Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Chapter Nine: Confession's Aftermath**

In order to keep her mind off of the fact that she was pretty much harboring a criminal, Hermione focused on her studies even more than usual. After Ron had gotten released from the infirmary, he'd finally ended things with Lavender, unwittingly with Hermione's help, so her excuse to get away so much had quickly vanished. People wondered where she was now. Consequently, she could only meet Draco on the weekends, and that was hard enough.

Hermione missed him. Not just because she didn't get to see him often, but she missed her naïve image of him. Dreams that had once made her smile returned to the nightmares she'd had at the beginning of term. Only now, he actually killed her. It was getting harder to look him in eye and smile.

But she still felt she'd made the right choice. She loved Draco, surely people could understand that. Well, Ron and Harry probably wouldn't. Since Ron's…_attack_, Harry had been ranting about Malfoy even more. Hermione really tried not to think about the mark on Draco's arm that proved he'd been behind it. It hardly ever worked.

After a particularly gruesome dream, she woke up in a cold sweat only to see Draco staring at her. She nearly fell off the bed. His face immediately looked concerned. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," she lied and pulled the blanket up to her chin. She tried to smile, but it came out as more of a wince.

He arched an eyebrow; he knew she was lying. He'd seen the terror in her eyes when she'd seen him. Why did he continuously have this effect on her? When he pushed a lock of hair from her face, he felt her whole body tense momentarily. "Hermione," he breathed.

"It was just a dream," she admitted nervously.

"From the look in your eyes I'd say it was more than just a dream. Was it about me?"

Hermione shook her head too quickly. "No. I don't want to talk about it."

Draco propped himself onto his elbow. "It was about me."

"I don't want to talk about it!" she reiterated firmly.

"What did I do? Did I hurt you?"

Hermione sat up indignantly and yelled, "Can't you take a bleeding hint?"

"You looked terrified! Shouldn't I be concerned?"

He had her there. "Yes, but you should also respect the fact that I don't want to talk about it! Oh, wait, I forgot, Malfoys don't respect anything but themselves!"

Draco wasn't stupid; he knew people said such things about him. Only, when Hermione said it, it actually hurt. A very tense silence ensued between them until Hermione turned away. After a few agonizing moments, Draco gently kissed her shoulder and whispered, "I'm sorry."

Hermione closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "You killed me," she finally whispered.

"What?"

"In the dream, you killed me."

* * * *

"Harry, you've got to come to the meetings again; Slughorn is driving the rest of us mad!" Hermione sighed in exasperation.

"You could just not go," suggested Ron from his seat next to Harry.

"I got the information I needed; why should I go?"

Her brow furrowed and she looked to Ron for support. Unfortunately, she immediately realized it was in vain; the fact that he wasn't invited was still a sore spot. She crossed her arms. "Fine."

As she sat through the meeting, she wished she hadn't gone either. Professor Slughorn kept looking at the door, hoping Harry would walk through it. Consequently, she was thoroughly irked by the time he let them out, fifteen minutes late. She was meeting Draco and she wasn't happy that she was going to be late.

When she finally arrived in the room, it was obvious that Draco wasn't happy either.

"You're late, I was beginning to think you weren't coming." Draco had really been afraid she wouldn't come. After the week he'd had, he really needed to see her.

"Slughorn kept us forever. He was convinced that Harry was coming this time." She rolled her eyes at the same time as Draco.

"Slug club," he muttered bitterly under his breath.

"You're not still upset about that are you?" Hermione fell back into the chair and shook her head.

"It's bullshit!"

Hermione looked at him with chastising eyes. "It's not as if he hasn't invited you because you're a bad wizard."

"My father was in it, so why in the hell hasn't he invited me?" he ranted.

Hermione had had enough. "Maybe because your _father _is an infamous Death Eater," she yelled. "And I dare say you are one yourself!" Hermione covered her mouth when she realized what she said.

Draco wheeled around; his gray eyes a storm of anger and fear. "How dare you!" he exploded.

She jumped out of her chair. "How dare me? How dare _you_!" she spat back. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? Did you think I couldn't see it on you arm? Staring me in the face? Reminding me of what I'm doing?"

Draco couldn't speak. His brain kicked into autopilot and he raced from the room. She knew. Before he even realized what he was doing, he was on the sixth floor, heading toward the boy's lavatory. When pushed through the door, he had to hold onto a sink to keep from collapsing to the floor. She knew. His knuckles were ghostly white as he clutched the porcelain surface.

"Draco?" cooed an unearthly voice behind him. "What's wrong?"

He closed his eyes in a vain effort to hold in the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. "Not now, Myrtle," he managed to choke.

"Now, now, what is it?" she tried again.

His breath caught in his throat; even if he wanted to he couldn't have explained the situation. He was too shocked to speak. She knew. Why hadn't she told him? Why hadn't she left him, or at least yelled at him? Furthermore, why hadn't she told anyone else? "She knows, I can't do it."

"Don't," she crooned. "Don't…tell me what's wrong…I can help you…"

"No." Draco's body began to shake. "No one can help me. I can't do it…. And if I don't …he'll kill me." The tears he'd been holding in now poured out of his eyes like a flood. An inexplicable fear and hopelessness gripped him; there was no way out, he finally understood that. He gasped, trying to get oxygen through his constricted throat. He looked in the mirror. "Shit."

There behind him stood Harry Potter, the loath Boy Who Lived. He wheeled around and automatically pulled out his wand. Just because he loved Hermione didn't mean he didn't wish for the demise of the famous Harry Potter. He cast his hexes but Harry blocked them several times.

Myrtle screamed, something behind him exploded and Draco decided these childish hexes would never work. "Cruci—"

Harry had a wild look in his eyes. "SECTUMSEMPRA!"

No words could describe the pain that ripped through Draco's body. His skin was literally sliced by an unseen force. The floor around him was covered in his blood, just like his whole body. Harry kneeled at his side but he couldn't find his wand to get him back.

Then Snape came out of nowhere and performed the counter-curse on him. He helped Draco to his feet and guided him out of the bathroom after telling Harry to wait for him there. Snape took him to the hospital and explained what had happened to Madam Pomfrey in whispers.

* * * *

Hermione listened in horror as Harry described what had happened. Draco was in the hospital recovering from the incident, and she couldn't go visit him because that would raise too much suspicion. "I told you that book was no good," she said, desperately trying to hold in what she really wanted to say. She really wanted to scream at him, and the fact that he'd gotten detention was no consolation.

She didn't see him in the Great Hall for two days, but he looked fine when he returned. He didn't return to the library though as Hermione sat with Zofia, pretending to do her work. For a week she went to their usual meeting places…but he was never there.

Tears stained her pillow every night. When she sat a few feet away from him, and he refused to meet her gaze, she could barely hold in her emotions. Harry and Ron didn't notice; they were too busy worrying about the Quidditch final without Harry.

The worst part was that she couldn't tell anyone what was happening inside of her. She could tell Zofia they were fighting, but that made it sound too simple. They weren't just fighting; she was afraid that this was really the end. It seemed hopeless.

A renegade tear slid down her cheek and she violently wiped it away. "I can't study," she told Zofia in frustration. She gathered her things and stood. "I need to go for a walk."

Zofia looked at her with curiosity and concern. "Okay,"

Before Hermione was truly cognizant of her movements, she was tracing the familiar path to the seventh floor.

* * * *

Draco slammed his textbook shut, causing several people in the Slytherin common room to look over at him. But they all went back to their work after one challenging look from him. His book didn't have the information he needed for his essay; he needed to go to the library and get another resource. The only problem was he knew that Hermione would be there and he couldn't face her.

_But she knew before_, his brain stubbornly reminded him, _and you love her_. True, he loved her, and since he'd come to the morbid realization that he probably wouldn't be alive much longer, he knew he should spend as much time with her as he possibly could. But the question that continually haunted him was _does she love me_? Sure, he'd seen what he thought was love in her eyes, but she'd never said it.

Besides, he almost put an unforgivable curse on her best friend. Granted, he was the one who'd ended up getting painfully shredded, but he'd still had the malicious intent against Potter, and something told him that Potter wouldn't fail to mention that.

He suddenly felt a new surge of malice against Potter hit him. Now he wanted to work on his task; anything to bring the famous Harry Potter. It no longer had anything to do with the Dark Lord or his family; it was personal. Only Draco, with the selfish Malfoy qualities that had been instilled in him since his birth, failed to realize that the task that he'd been given wasn't personal; his task, if completed successfully, would have an effect on the whole world, and a very negative effect on the woman he loved.

But these thoughts never crossed his mind as he left the Slytherin common room and took his familiar short cut to the Room of Requirement. He tried not to think about the fact that he normally took this route when he was going there to be with Hermione.

Yet, whom should he find walking down the corridor toward him?

Hermione stopped as she noticed him, head down, not immediately realizing that she was there. When he looked up even from where she stood five feet way she could see the dark circles under his fierce eyes that were akin to her own. Apparently she wasn't the only one who was miserable and frustrated at the world.

They stood at a short distance for sometime, just staring at each other in the blaring silence. Hermione was the first to speak. "Why are you avoiding me?"

All thoughts of his task and revenge left him when he saw the raw pain in her chocolate eyes. Without a word to her, he paced in front of the room until the door appeared and he pulled her inside. She made no protests to speak of, though there were many in her mind. She was just happy that she was with him again. Draco, on the other hand, was dreading the looming conversation.

Draco paced in frustration in front of Hermione as she watched in silence. "How—" he finally tried. "How can you even look at me when you know who I truly am? I can barely look at myself!"

Deep concern never left her eyes as she approached him and forced him to look her in the eye. "That…thing on your arm isn't who you truly are, and your shame proves that."

He closed his eyes and wondered how his vile skin wasn't burning someone so innocent. "How long have you known?" Draco opened his eyes when she didn't answer. "How long?" he reiterated.

"Remember when I came to the bath?"

His eyes widened. "You've known since then?"

"Actually the day before."

He backed away in near shock. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell anyone else?"

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Look what happened when you found out. "

She had a point; he hadn't handled that well.

"And I couldn't tell anyone else because you'd get sent to Azkaban with your father." The tears she'd been attempting to hold in now slid down her face. "I mean, how would I live with myself knowing I did that to you?" _Of course_, she thought, _how am I going to live with myself knowing that I let whatever he's going to do happen? _But she didn't say it.

Unbeknownst to her, Draco was thinking along those same lines. How would he live with himself after he fulfilled his task? He hadn't been cut out to be a Death Eater; he had something that the rest of them lacked: a conscience.

"I love you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Merlin knows I shouldn't, but I do."

**A/N: Every writer loves to hear from her readers, so do me a favor and tell me how you feel. Be honest whether it be good or bad.**


	10. Choices

A/N: Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius. (And the "word vomit" is from the movie _Mean Girls_.)

**Chapter Ten: Choices**

Draco swore that he could feel his heart swell with happiness so much so that the fact that his happiness would be very short lived never crossed his mind. He pulled Hermione into his arms and just held her.

"I don't see why you're so surprised." She smiled up at him with a tinge of melancholy in her eyes. She understood the situation all too well. "I couldn't be with you if I didn't love you."

He arched an eyebrow in question. "Are you saying that you've always loved me? I mean, since we've been together?"

"Upon some deep introspection…yeah. I mean, there's no gray area for us. We either hate each other, or we love each other; I don't think we will ever just like each other."

He nodded. "That's unfortunately very true." Only, Draco had the sinking that it wouldn't be very long before she started hating him again. But as he looked in to her eyes and tenderly pressed his lips to hers, he let the dark thought slip from his mind and just focused on the woman he loved.

They both felt a sweetness in that kiss that they'd never before felt. The outward expression of Hermione's love for him made it different from any other kiss that they'd shared. It possessed an element that made them forget that there was anyone else in the world who'd tell them it was wrong.

* * * *

Hermione was happy that everything went back to normal, or as normal as could be attained in the current state of the world. Two weeks after they'd made up, Hermione left her Arithmacy class with huge smile on her face. She'd just earned thirty points for Gryffindor in one class. Her smile widened as she remembered when Draco had told her that if she had been in Slytherin they'd actually win the House Cup.

But then the smile fell from her face. Walking toward her in the corridor were Draco and Pansy Parkinson, arm in arm. Rage and jealousy boiled up in her as they passed. Pansy smiled at her maliciously, but Draco didn't seem to notice her presence. Part of her wanted to yell out every profanity that came to mind, another told her that there must be a rational explanation, but the part that ultimately won out was the one that urged her to run to the Gryffindor Tower and cry into her pillow until dinner.

Trying her hardest to cover her agitation, Hermione went to their private room the next day as they had arranged. The facade apparently worked because Draco enfolded her in his arms on the settee without noticing that she was perturbed. She took advantage of this and posed her subtle accusation. "I saw you with Pansy the other day,"

Hermione couldn't see Draco as he rolled his gray eyes. "It doesn't matter how many times I tell her that I'm counting down the years until I never have to see her again, she just won't get that point."

"So there's nothing going on between you?"

"No!" Leaning around so he could see her face, Draco looked at her seriously. "Merlin, Hermione, I love you. If there was one good quality that Salazar Slytherin prized it was loyalty. I'm loyal to you."

And then it happened before she could stop it; word vomit. "I bet you're loyal to Voldemort, too."

His whole body went rigid. There was a turbulent mixture of emotions in his eyes making him look more ferocious than she could remember him ever being. She immediately got to her feet and moved some meters away from him. She didn't think he'd grow violent, but she could never be absolutely sure.

"Don't say his name!" he yelled, causing Hermione to flinch.

"I don't fear him like you do," she retorted.

He seemed to regain some of his calm. "You should," he admonished after awhile.

Hermione shook her head. "You can't be loyal to him and to me. It _just doesn't work_."

He approached her, taking her by the shoulders and looking at her desperately. "Damn it, Hermione, don't you get it? I didn't want to follow in my father's footsteps; I didn't want a become a Death Eater, but if I don't complete the impossible task he's given me, he'll kill me and my family—"

"If you do he'll kill me."

Her solemn statement knocked the breath from his chest. He'd never thought of it in that context before, but it was likely true. If he fulfilled his task, and then Harry was defeated, Hermione would most likely die. He didn't even know what the Dark Lord planned to do with the Mudbloods when—if he defeated Potter. For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy wished for the victory of his archenemy, Harry Potter.

He was amazed how one person could so drastically change his views on life. Hermione looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears and he felt tears of his own collect in his eyes. He'd known for weeks now that he was seemingly forever stuck between a rock and a hard place, but that he'd eventually have to make a decision. He couldn't work in the room for all of eternity, dreading the day that the cabinet might work and allow the Death Eaters to infiltrate the school. Hell, Hermione could die then for all he knew.

"Dumbledore can protect you, if you just let him," she suggested desperately.

He closed his eyes at the agonizing irony of her suggestion. Pulling her into his arms, he let his tears fall freely. He wanted to be with her for eternity and that was it. He wanted to forget that anyone in the world would tell him it was wrong, that anyone existed at all. He cursed the day that the former Tom Riddle ever left his mother's womb; he cursed the day that Professor Dumbledore told the same man that he was a wizard, and, most of all, he cursed his father for ever getting in with the likes of the Death Eaters and taking the Dark Mark.

* * * *

Hermione sat in the Gryffindor Common Room two weeks later. Harry and Ginny were getting cozy not too far away and Ron was futilely trying to write a perfect essay for Snape. To someone looking on, it seemed that she was concentrating sternly on the words on the pages in front of her, but nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, she couldn't have told you what was on those pages to save her life. Instead, she was attempting to piece together a puzzle of necromancy.

What was Draco up to in that room? Harry had often posed the question after looking at the map and only gaining nugatory facts. "What is he doing!" he'd mutter angrily. Sometimes Hermione would smile and think, "Half of the time he's in there he's doing me." Not now though. She wanted to know for herself. She realized that if she just asked Draco he'd probably tell her, just to share some of the burden, but then she'd have a burden of her own. If he told her straight out, she'd feel obligated to turn him in, but if she figured it out on her own, she wouldn't so much.

She knew that he was behind the 'attacks' on Ron and Katie, but she also knew that they weren't his targets. He had a target, a task as he called it, an impossible one. _That means someone else has tried and failed, _she thought. She had already decided that he was supposed to kill someone, but whom? Harry was out of the question; Voldemort had to face Harry. So who did that leave? Then it began to come together.

_Voldemort tried to kill him and failed, the poisoned wine was sent for him, and the Katie was probably told to give the necklace to him_, she thought rapidly, _it makes complete sense_. "Oh, shit."

* * * *

Draco sat on the floor and stared up at the cabinet as he had many times before. He'd done everything imaginable to the stupid contraption, and it still refused to work. _Maybe it's because I don't want it to_, he mused.

In truth, Draco dreaded the day it did work. But then he noticed something on the inside that he hadn't noticed before all year. _That's it_, his mind yelled at him. Jumping to his feet, he tightened the object and began to hear an almost imperceptible whistle. It worked!

It's unfortunate that Draco was one of those people who really can't compute more than one or two things at once. At this point he was relieved that the cabinet worked and that he wasn't as good as dead anymore. He was too busy thinking about these things that he completely forgot about the fact that the woman he loved was as good as dead now.

* * * *

Hermione stood just outside Snape's office in the dark corridor with Luna. She'd taken a small sip of the _Felix Felicis_ just like everyone else, but she still felt uneasy. Draco was going to try to complete his task tonight, she knew it. She only hoped that he didn't go through with it.

Snape's office was silent; there was nothing going on there. She signaled to Luna that she was going to check the rest of the corridor to see if anything was happening, and she silently moved down the stone hallway.

Then she saw him, his white-blonde head looking around anxiously. For some reason, she didn't think twice about stepping out from her hiding spot and he noticed her instantly. "Hermione?" Approaching her slowly, Draco continued to look around. "Hermione, you shouldn't be here, it's not safe." There was true concern in his voice.

Tears began to sting her eyes before she could stop them. It wasn't safe there because of him, but as much as she wanted to, she couldn't hate him. At least, not yet. "You don't have to do this," she reminded him desperately. "Dumbledore can protect you from Voldemort, but not if you kill him."

"How did you—?"

"Nevermind! Just don't do this!" she begged.

Draco could practically see her heart breaking in her eyes. "I'm not brave like you, Hermione. I can't just stand up to the Dark Lord." He violently pulled up his sleeve to remind her of his brand. "I can't go back now."

Steamy tears began to flow down Hermione's cheeks. "You could, you just won't."

He tried to wipe her tears, but she turned away. "Don't do this," he whispered in pure agony. "Hermione, please, I love you."

She shook her head. "No, obviously you don't. If you kill him, I'm dead."

"I'm sorry, I have to do this, and hope that someday you can forgive me." He tried to kiss her one last time but failed.

"I'm sorry, too," she spat viperously. "I'm sorry that I ever thought that you were capable of loving anyone other than yourself." Hanging his head in what Hermione hoped was shame, Draco turned from her and walked away. "I can _never_ forgive you."


	11. Decisions

A/N: everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Chapter Eleven: Decisions**

Draco paced on the steps of the Astronomy Tower, constantly looking over his shoulder. If Hermione followed him, he'd really loose his nerve. Then all would be lost. Dumbledore kept talking to him, asking him how he'd gotten to this spot. The Professor looked so much older and feeble than Draco remembered.

Here was a man that Draco had secretly come to revere and he was begging for his life. The only wizard that the Dark Lord ever feared was at the mercy of Draco Malfoy. Yet, the secret glory that many Death Eaters would feel at overcoming an obstacle that even their great leader couldn't wasn't to be found in the young Malfoy.

"You're not a killer, Draco," Dumbledore was saying. Of course he wasn't a killer! Hell, he wasn't even a Death Eater in his mind. That's why his previous attempts had been so pathetic. Though other people had ended up getting hurt, he told himself that those accidents were the fault other people. Katie Bell had gotten hurt because the necklace hadn't been wrapped well, especially for a cursed necklace, and Weasley had been hurt because of Slughorn's selfishness and dishonesty. These facts were his only solace.

As if the Professor were reading his thoughts he said, "…I wonder whether your heart has truly been in it…"

"It has been in it!" Draco lied automatically, but he didn't mean it one bit. If anything, his heart had been in finding a way out of it. "I've been working on it all year," he added in accordance with his true thoughts.

A sound from within the castle drew his attention. Something was happening to someone and he desperately hoped that Hermione wasn't involved in whatever it was. She hated him now, he knew it, but he still loved her; something told him he always would. Though, at that point in time, he doubted that his 'always' would be very long. He couldn't kill this man, and it would get him killed in return.

Dumbledore knew it too. He also knew that Draco had been behind the previous attacks. He slowly worked through Draco's machinations with a few hints from Malfoy, who paced in boredom and anxiety. But eventually, Dumbledore did just what Hermione said he would: he offered his help. For some reason, Draco knew he wasn't just offering in order to save his life; he truly wanted to help. Draco was amazed. Here he was, standing there with the supposed intent to murder and his victim was sincerely offering him help. It was an even greater deterrent. But it was unfortunately nugatory. "No, you can't," Draco said, the agonizing reality and fear gripped him once more and his hands began to shake furiously. It was the same thing with Hermione. "Nobody can. He told me to do it or he'll kill me. I've got no choice." I'm dead, he thought.

"Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine."

This statement from Dumbledore brought a small glimmer of hope to Draco's being. Maybe there was hope after all; maybe he wasn't as good as dead. But the next thing he said turned the tables oddly. "… You're at my mercy…"

"No, Draco," the wizen professor countered quietly. "It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now."

And how true that was. The only way Draco could get out of this mess was with Dumbledore's help, and they both knew it.

But then some of Draco's 'back-up' came into view from the inside. His chance was gone now. If he didn't do it, they would, and they'd kill him too. These people didn't care about anything but pleasing and getting closer to a man who considered no one his friend or confidante. And Draco certainly wasn't one of them.

The Death Eaters pressured Draco, and because of them he'd have an excuse for his young conscience. Only, he still couldn't do it.

But with the silhouette of one person, Draco knew it was over. Snape, with his arrogantly sweeping robes, joined the rest of them. Draco could see the sick determination in his black eyes that had been constantly absent from his own. It was then that Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of the day, the only wizard that the Dark Lord feared, began to beg. "Severus…"

But it was futile. Without a word to anyone, Snape raised his wand and aimed it to the Headmaster's chest. "_Avada Kedavra_!"

Draco watched in horror. His hope was gone.

* * * *

Hermione couldn't believe her ears as Harry told them the tale of what had transpired on the Astronomy Tower. Draco hadn't gone through with it, but the professor had died anyway. As usual, she blamed herself. If she had just told Dumbledore about Draco instead of letting her teenage fantasies get in her way, he'd still be alive. If she would have tried to stop Snape from leaving his office instead of falling for his lie about Professor Flitwick passing out when he'd actually done something to him, maybe Dumbledore would still be alive. But 'if onlys' would do her no good.

She didn't sleep well for the duration of her stay at Hogwarts. She constantly feared that her incriminating secret would somehow manifest itself on her forehead and everyone would find out. Her singular solace was the fact that Draco hadn't done it, but it was too little too late. Even with that fact, she knew that she would never be able to forgive him.

What she forgot to consider was how Draco would fair now that he was with the Death Eaters and he had failed to complete his task, especially since he'd had the opportunity.

**A/N: Sorry this chapter is so short, but it was an unplanned chapter. I had planned to go straight to the second part, but I thought that you'd all like to know what Hermione's thoughts were when she found out he didn't do it, and what thought processes Draco had before he decided not to do it. And remember, writers love to hear feedback, good or bad, so please review.**

**A/N 2: If your into the darker side of forbidden love, I recommend the Alternate Part II called I Have Nothing (in-progress). Which continues the story as if Voldemort had prevailed. (it's kind of like a choose your own story lol.)**


	12. Letters

**A/N:**Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**A/N:** Well, my avid readers…welcome to part two.

**Chapter Twelve: Letters**

**Part II**

**Six Years Later**

Hermione sat in her office at the Ministry of Magic. Considering that it was her last day there, any young witch would have loved to be in her shoes. Unfortunately, that was the last thing on her mind. Morosely she looked at the picture on her desk taken five years earlier at her graduation from Hogwarts. Three smiling graduates waved at her from the frame and she smiled at them sadly. She hadn't seen her friends in five years.

It had been the very same day that picture had been taken. Malfoy, who had somehow managed to escape from Snape and aid the good side, had made a last ditch attempt to beg for her forgiveness…

_Hermione smiled brightly at what had to be the tenth camera and put her face next to Ron's. After all they'd been through they were finally graduating. Since their joint efforts to finally defeat Voldemort, everyone wanted to take their picture. She could remember very few times when she'd been this happy, so smiling so much came easily. Besides, she knew there were many more happy times to come now that they were finally free of Voldemort and the Death Eaters._

_In fact, all was well with the world. Snape had lost his soul when he'd been caught, rightfully so after all he'd done, and most of the Death Eaters were safely housed in Azkaban's finest cells. There were only about twenty that were successfully evading the authorities, Narcissa Malfoy among them. Malfoy…_

_Her smile dimmed at the thought of that name. He'd been plaguing her and her thoughts all year. True, she'd done her fair share of tormenting him like everyone else for the past year, but he'd tormented her without even knowing it. He'd betrayed her, hadn't he? Betrayed her trust, her love? She'd asked herself the question too many times, and, yet, she had no answer._

_Then there he was, almost out of nowhere, two meters away. Their eyes locked and Hermione's pulsed began to race. _Don't come over hear_, her mind yelled at him, _not now when I'm almost rid of you. _But he moved toward her. She turned in the opposite direction; she had to get away from him._

"_Hermione!" he yelled after her; she continued to walk. But he apparently wasn't giving up that easily. "Hermione, stop!"_

_Hermione stopped, closed her eyes and inhaled. Everyone was looking at them now, and she couldn't stop him. But she would try. "Malfoy, don't do this, please," she pleaded in a low whisper._

_He stepped closer in an effort to give them a semblance of privacy. "Stop lying to yourself, Hermione, that's all I ask."_

_Over her shoulder she could see Ron look at Harry and ask, "Since when did _he_call her Hermione?" They walked closer and Ron spoke. "What're you playing at Malfoy?"_

"_Hermione, you know you're just dating him to hurt me. I love you!" He yelled desperately._

_If everyone hadn't been listening before, they were listening after that. Ron and Harry looked at her simultaneously with astonishment and agony in their eyes. "Hermione?"_

_A tear ran down her cheek, she knew it was the end. It was then that she lost everything…_

He'd caused it, every succeeding argument and event had been his fault. Maybe if he'd asked in private she might have considered it, but he'd done it in front of everyone. Her darkest secret laid out for all to know.

All the proud Slytherin had gotten was a black eye and a severely bruised ego, but Hermione had lost everything. Harry and Ron found out about her sordid affair and realized that she alone could have prevented Dumblebore's death if only she would have gotten information from Malfoy, something Draco had almost wanted in the first place. At that point, she hadn't even tried to defend herself. She doubted they could have understood.

After that she hadn't spoken to any of them. With the exception of the twins, the Weasley family, including Harry since his marriage to Ginny, had made it very clear that they wanted nothing to do with her. Harry even worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which was three floors above hers, as an Auror, but the few times they'd passed each other in the halls, he'd completely ignored her. She knew she was dead to them.

But that was the past. The walls of her office were covered with awards and achievements that she'd gained on her own…without them.

The door to her office opened and Zofia came through, holding a letter in her hand. "This was in your tray," she explained. "I though I'd fetch it for you."

"Cheers," she smiled, taking the letter. Zofia was her only remaining friend from Hogwarts, not that she'd had many to begin with, but everyone else had sided with their beloved hero. _Their hero who would have died many times over was it not for me,_ she thought.

As she opened the letter absentmindedly, she immediately recognized the handwriting and the almost indiscernible signature. "Malfoy," she spat.

Zofia arched a ginger eyebrow at her. "It's that time again?"

After five years she knew she should be used to it, but somehow the inconspicuous letter always seemed to quicken her pulse. "I've got to stop this," she decided firmly.

"How exactly do you plan on doing that? I mean, you really think he'll stop after five years?" Zofia pointed out skeptically.

Hermione looked down bashfully. "I've never actually told him to stop. I've always just ignored him, hoping he'd give up someday," she admitted. The truth was she was afraid of what would happen if he said the things he wrote to her face.

"Hmm, he's sent you those letters religiously every two months for the past five years and you thought he was going to just up and quit?"

Hermione stood up and defended herself; "I don't want to see him, alright?"

Zofia sighed and gave her a sympathetic smile. "I don't think you have a choice, Love"

"Might as well do it now," sighed Hermione as she walked out of her office. The Department of Magical Games and Sports was on the seventh level, a level Hermione had always found best to avoid. Today, though, it was her destination. She figured that since they'd no longer be working in the same building, today was the most ideal day to confront him. Whether or not that was true was still to be seen.

The door to the lift opened and her courage almost failed. The last two people in the world she wanted to see stood there smiling, hand in hand. Harry's smile dimmed as she stepped in beside them. She could tell by the look on their faces that she only confirmed their suspicions when she designated the seventh floor as her destination. It figured, the first time she'd gone to confront Malfoy and they had to be in the lift with her. Luckily, she was only going down two floors, so the tense ride was short.

When the door reopened, she was so focused on leaving that she ran straight into someone waiting to get on. Someone with the palest hair she'd ever seen. "Malfoy," she nearly spat when she registered who it was.

He, on the other hand, softly breathed her name, "Hermione…?"

"I need to talk to you," she explained with forced civility, "privately."

Hope flashed in his eyes, but only for an instant. Her voice might have been even enough, but he could recognize the cold glint in her eyes. "We can talk in my office," he told her discreetly. "Follow me."

As she followed him through the department, some of her determination was eroded away by the submissive manner in which he led her. Just by the small interaction they'd had, she could tell he'd changed since graduation. No doubt it had to do with the utter contempt that the Malfoy name now invoked in everyone. Considering that Narcissa was still a renegade Death Eater and Lucius was forever in Azkaban, there wasn't a free soul in the Wizarding world that looked up to the Malfoys as the ideal family now.

Malfoy's office was exactly the same as hers, official and void of personal touches. Closing the door behind her, he sat on the edge of his desk and looked at her expectantly. "So?"

"You've got to stop," she commanded bluntly.

"What're you—"

"Don't be thick, Malfoy," she cut him off. "Stop sending me letters. I have felt nothing but the deepest loathing for you for the past six years."

He didn't say anything. He just sat there on the edge of his desk and bore into her with his turbulent eyes. She hadn't felt so transparent in a very long time.

_Six years_, Draco thought as he looked at her. He hadn't held her in his arms, or completely caught her off guard by kissing her in six years. In fact, the last time they'd had any physical contact he'd ended up with a black eye for two weeks. But as he watched her begin to shift uncomfortably under his intense gaze, he began to understand the real reason she'd remained aloof. "Really?" he asked purposefully.

Her response was delayed and defensive, "Yes,"

"Uh huh,"

A new fervor lit her eyes as she stared at him with flared nostrils. "Just stop!" she yelled and left his office, slamming the door in her wake.

"DAMNIT!" he yelled and kicked a huge hole in the front of his desk. Through the window of his office he could see Hermione stop and wince. Strike two.

* * * *

Hermione ran her hands over the smooth leather of her new office chair. Inhaling deeply, she breathed in the scent of her new establishment. She was the boss now. The store was hers to do with as she'd pleased. She couldn't stop smiling.

She had been at the store in Hogsmeade since daybreak. When she'd apparated outside of the store, she'd been thrilled to find the storeroom filled with the books she'd ordered to fill the shelves.

It was nearly one o'clock in the afternoon and the front room had been arranged and rearranged until it was perfect. She sat in her office behind the counter and just smiled. For the first time in maybe six years she was truly happy.

As she sat there in her daydreams, she began to hear a hollow tapping. When she left her office she saw a tiny owl furiously pecking on her window. Hermione opened the door, but the tiny owl continued to peck the window until she took hold of it. After she untied its equally tiny burden, she was surprised to see it fly back to the Hogsmeade post office. Even more curiously, though, was that the bit of parchment was blank.

When she turned back to her shop her heart nearly leapt out of her chest with fright. Leaning against the building, a clever smirk playing at his lips, was Malfoy. "Good afternoon, Hermione."

She replied tersely, "Well, it was."

Hermione turned on her heels and walked back into her store, Malfoy following silently in her wake. She'd never invited him in, but at that time he didn't really care.

"How did you know I was here?" she questioned tensely as she pretended to rearrange a display.

"There was an advertisement in my tray."

"I meant now."

"Uh," he hesitated. "I knew you'd be here now because you over prepare for everything."

She couldn't disagree with that. Again, she felt extremely transparent, even though her back was turned. "What do you want?"

He scoffed. "After six years, I'd think you'd know."

Inhaling deeply, she summoned up the courage to face him. "What will it take for you to stop?"

He considered her question. In truth, he'd almost been hoping she'd ask that kind of question because he knew exactly what it would take. "A date," he answered after a few moments.

She snorted, "A date?"

"Yes," he nodded. "You go on one date with me and I will stop…if you want," he added.

"I will," she assured him quickly. "If I go on one date with you, you'll stop?"

"That's the proposition."

She looked him over with a sour expression. "Fine, but _only one_," she stressed.

Draco worked to contain his excitement and managed to simply give her a curt nod. "I'll pick you up at ten tomorrow morning."

Her mouth fell open in horror. "Ten in the morning?" she screeched. "That's not a date!"

"Yes, it is," he combated calmly. "It's an all day date."

Crossing her arms defiantly, "I refuse," was the only thing she could spit out.

"Good, see you at ten." He flashed a smile and swept out the door. He was going to be there promptly at ten if she was ready or not. He'd finally gotten the chance he'd been waiting for, and somehow he knew one chance was all he needed.


	13. A Date

A/N: Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Chapter Thirteen: A Date**

Hermione furiously paced in the living room of her house. He'd planned it, the whole thing, and she walked right into it. "A date," she ranted. "The nerve!"

The grandfather clock read five till ten as Hermione impatiently looked out the window. She didn't think he'd be early, and if he knew what was good for him he wouldn't come at all, but she highly doubted he'd do that either.

Hermione suddenly ceased her pacing. How would she feel if he stood her up? After all, she had tormented him several times in such a manner their seventh year at Hogwarts. Those definitely weren't among her prouder moments. One memory in particular floated back into her thoughts; a memory she'd desperately tried to forget…

_Hermione slipped out of the corridor and into the familiar room. What once had been happy memories flooded her mind as she looked around. Now they haunted her. She was almost constantly afraid that someone would find out what she'd really been up to last year. She shuddered. Ron and Harry, but especially Ron would be crushed._

_Shaking herself back to reality, Hermione quickly hid behind the desk in the corner where she'd often done her work. Malfoy would be there any minute. In fact, she hadn't been there thirty seconds before the door opened and admitted a very haggard looking Malfoy._

_After looking around once, he didn't seem very surprised to find he was alone. Hermione wasn't shocked by this; after all, this was the forth time she'd done this to him. Most of the time he would fly into a blind rage and break just about everything in the room. Deep down she knew she did it just to convince herself that she was better off with out him._

_This time, however, he placidly sat in a chair and began to weep. It was truly the most heart wrenching thing Hermione had ever seen. She watched him rock back and forth in the chair, his head in his hands, and tried to convince herself that he had brought this on himself._

_Suddenly, he stopped. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she watched him pull out his wand and point it at his chest. There was no doubt in her mind what he was planning. Thinking quickly, she whipped out her own wand and pointed it at the full-length mirror, shattering it. Draco's wand fell to the floor and he anxiously looked around, excruciating pain and terror mixed in his pale eyes. With a violently shaking hand, he collected his wand and ran from the room. _

_Hermione's heart beat loudly in her chest. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. And she couldn't bring herself to admit what she'd just realized…_

A knock on her front door abruptly brought Hermione back to reality. Almost trance-like she walked to her front door and opened it mechanically. An older Draco smiled down at her, holding out a bouquet of perfect roses. She automatically took the flowers but looked at him in confusion. "Draco?"

Draco's stomach clenched at the dazed way she said his name. But she looked genuinely confounded. Had she really forgotten? "We have a date," he reminded her.

Shaking her head, Hermione took in her appearance. She'd put on some of her muggle clothing just to annoy him. "Right, uh, come in," she stammered. Turning away from him, she went to her kitchen to put the roses in a vase. She didn't know how she was going to get through the day because every time she looked at him she felt renewed guilt over what she'd nearly driven him to do.

Another knock brought her back. She immediately turned to see Draco leaning in the doorway of the kitchen. For the first time she noticed that he had also donned muggle clothing, but she chose not to think about how handsome he looked in them. "Ready?"

"I guess," she muttered and followed him from the kitchen. "Where are we going?"

"London,"

Hermione locked her door and joined him in her front yard. "You're going to have to be more specific if you want us to end up in the same place," she admonished.

"Just go to the Leaky Cauldron."

"Oh, how fancy," she said sarcastically. The next instant she was standing in the dim dinning room of the wizard pub in London; Draco instantaneously appeared beside her. No one in the room paid them any mind; they were all used to people appearing out of thin air.

Draco surprised her by walking to the door to muggle London. "Are you coming?" he asked when she didn't follow.

He held the door open as she caught up with him. "I didn't realize you meant muggle London."

He arched a pale eyebrow at her explanation. "Why else would I dress this way?"

Without replying, she followed him down the sidewalk. It had been a while since she'd been to muggle London. Whenever she went out it was either in Hogsmeade or in Diagon alley. She doubted that Draco frequented the city either, so she was begrudgingly curious to see exactly what he'd planned for them.

As they walked along, Hermione silently wondered when she'd started to think of him as Draco.

When they reached the Thames, Draco stopped at the London Eye. "Have you ever ridden this?" he asked excitedly.

"No, I haven't," she told him honestly.

They joined the surprisingly short queue waiting to get on the huge Ferris wheel. Within five minutes they were shut into a bubble…just the two of them.

Hermione stood directly opposite from the door and looked out at the river as they slowly rose over the city. She'd been in London a great deal since she'd found out she was a witch, yet she'd never ridden one of its most famous attractions.

"How does it feel to be free of the ministry?" Draco asked after a while.

She smiled almost shyly but didn't look at him. "Feels really good."

"You were working under Percy Weasley, weren't you?"

She scoffed. "As if you didn't know," she replied tensely, remembering that she was supposed to give him a hard time all day. Out of the corner of her eye she saw his pale eyes dim. She'd been easy on him before, now she had to make up for it.

"I was just trying to start a conversation."

"We've never been able to have a conversation," she snapped.

"Whose fault is it now?" he blurted out without thinking. The sudden change in her disposition didn't escape him. She hadn't been quite herself when he'd picked her up; the snappy Hermione was unfortunately the one he was used to.

She looked at him, eyes narrowed, but she didn't seem surprised. "What? Did you really think I was going to come with you and pretend that the past six years never happened?"

"No—"

"Or I'd forget that it's because of you that I have only one friend in the world?" she ranted.

"You could have two!" he shot back.

Anger boiled up so fiercely that Hermione couldn't even articulate a retort. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she realized that they had just reached the top. She still had to spend twenty minutes locked in this bubble of a prison with Draco.

The tension that grew between was almost tangible. Draco could almost see her murdering him in her eyes. This definitely wasn't going like he'd thought it would. He reluctantly left her side and went to the opposite side of the compartment. The last thing he wanted to do was provoke her even further.

Time seemed to go purposefully slow and the creeping Ferris wheel didn't help to speed it along. As they came to the bottom, Hermione joined him by the door. Pushing past him when it opened, she left the platform not caring whether Draco was behind her or not.

"Hermione!" he yelled as the distance grew between them. He ran to catch up with her when she didn't stop. He realized why when he forced her to stop by stepping in front of her and grabbing her shoulders. Tears stained her cheeks and more were escaping her eyes.

"I thought I could do this, but I can't," she cried. "Please, just leave me alone. I don't ever want to see you again."

Draco desperately searched her eyes; surely she didn't mean it. Surely somewhere deep down she still loved him…she just had to.

"Please," she begged again.

Letting go of her shoulders, Draco stepped aside to let her pass. And just like that, she was gone again.


	14. Attack!

**A/N:**Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Chapter Fourteen: Attack!**

Draco needed a plan. That was for certain. Obviously a date hadn't been the way to go. He brought the glass to his lips, but thought better of taking a drink. The last thing he needed to do was get drunk over yet another failed attempt to win Hermione back.

Looking into the fire, Draco began to wonder if it truly was in vain. For the past five years, ever since their graduation from Hogwarts, he'd been determined to at least get her to forgive him. Five years of his life…and what did he have to show for it? Hermione never wanted to see him again; she'd made that clear.

A log cracked in the fire as Draco leaned his head back onto the chair. He'd gone over the events of their ill-fated date many times in his mind and every time he picked out something else he'd done wrong, but not this time. When he went over it again, the end specifically, he realized something different about Hermione.

When she'd told him to leave her alone she'd looked torn and desperate, not hateful. He'd seen hate enough in her eyes to know it hadn't been there. Maybe he hadn't been fooling himself after all. He remembered now, he'd seen it in her eyes. Seven years ago he'd seen it in his own eyes when he'd looked in the mirror. She was in major denial.

He didn't just need a plan; he needed a whole new approach. Obviously she wasn't open to a romantic relationship with him at this point. The truth be told, she wasn't interested in any kind of relationship with him, but he wasn't so sure.

Some of his Slytherin cunning seeped back into him as he began to formulate a plan. If he approached her under the guise of friendship then maybe she'd be more receptive. With time maybe she'd be able to remember how much she'd loved him. Hopefully.

The room around him had grown dark without him noticing, giving the huge library its normal eerie feel. He wasn't quite sure why he still lived in the old manor. Maybe he wasn't ready to let go of that part of being a Malfoy. Maybe he just didn't want to go to the trouble of selling the place and finding a new place to live, not that anyone these days would want to buy it. Or maybe he just wanted to hold onto the few happy memories he had of his parents. Either way, there he was in the huge manor…alone.

Howling winds brought him out of his reverie. It was late; he should get some sleep. He would give Hermione a few days to calm down before he set his new plan into action.

* * * *

"Two days," Hermione whispered to her empty office. The sun hadn't even risen over the trees, but she was in her store nevertheless. There was really nothing more to be done; she just liked to be there in _her_ store.

She stepped back out into the street; there was nothing more she could do until Monday when she opened. If she remembered correctly, the first Hogsmeade weekend was in two weeks. In all honesty, she didn't know how many students would go into a bookstore when they didn't have to buy any schoolbooks, but she hoped her other stock would bring them in.

She stepped away from her building and the next second she was standing in front of her house, which was about four kilometers out of town. Light was now peeking over the trees as the sun rose in the sky. As she walked into her two-story house, a growl from her stomach reminded her that she hadn't eaten breakfast. She hadn't taken a shower either. She'd been in a trance-like state that morning and had immediately apparated to Hogsmeade.

First things first, she thought, I need a shower. Pulling herself up the stairs to her room, she peeled her shirt over her head and entered the bathroom. Her stomach was still growling but she needed a shower to wake her up before she attempted to make any food.

The warm water hit her upturned face. Without her consent, her thoughts turned to Draco. It had almost been a week since their disastrous date and she hadn't heard a peep from him. Even as she thought about it she refused to admit that she was disappointed. Not slightly or a little, she was flat out disappointed. Not that she missed him, or had any thoughts of starting back up with him, but she was disappointed in the fact that he'd just given up.

After washing her hair and standing under the warm water for about ten minutes, she stepped out of her shower and pulled a fluffy, white towel around her. She was raising her wand to dry her hair when a blood-curling scream cut the morning.

Rushing to her window, she threw open the curtains to see what it was. When she saw the origin she was paralyzed by shock and fear. A group of cloaked figures stood in her front yard surrounding an all-to-familiar white-blonde head. But there were two…

With a growing horror, Hermione realized that these were the last of the Death Eaters…and Narcissa appeared to be in the lead. The only way she even recognized Draco was his hair, which was streaked red with blood at that. His arms and legs stuck out at odd, impossible angles but they continued to beat him mercilessly. Narcissa aimed her wand at him and lifted him into the air. He didn't scream this time. He was unconscious; Hermione hoped he wasn't already dead.

Remembering she had a wand herself, she silently opened her window and begun to stun the people below. She started with the back of the group and eventually got to Narcissa. Her whole body shook as she pulled on a robe and ran down the stairs. Damn wizards! No phones, no cell phones, no bleeding easy way to get help. She needed several Aurors and a healer and she needed them now. The fastest way to get them would be to apparate to the ministry.

Stepping into her backyard, she really hoped no one came along and freed them. The next second she was at the ministry. The sound of her calm voice explaining the situation was foreign to her; her brain was going crazy with panic.

Before she knew it, she was back in her front yard, watching the Death Eaters be taken into custody. The healer, Nessa, a former Gryffindor who'd been four years ahead of Hermione, conjured a stretcher for Draco, who was still unconscious but alive.

Hermione offered her guestroom as a makeshift hospital room, even when Nessa told her he probably wouldn't wake up for at least twenty-four hours and that she couldn't move him after she healed him. She wasn't sure why she agreed, but she did. She was still in a daze.

The next few hours seemed agonizingly slow, but Hermione barely remembered them. Surrounding woods had been searched just in case, a full report was made and Hermione did her best to clear her property of reporters. Eventually Nessa was the only one left.

Hermione leaned dejectedly against the wall, holding her head in her hands. Through the doorway she could see Nessa as she healed the many broken and shattered bones inside Draco. It was several minutes before she finished and gingerly pulled the blankets over him.

"I don't know when he'll wake, either today or tomorrow. Many of his bones were just shattered; it's going to be a long healing process," Nessa told her as she closed the door.

Hermione nodded. "Thanks, Nessa."

"Are you sure you're up to this?"

Again, Hermione nodded numbly. "Yeah, but as soon as he's healed he's on his own."

"I understand. Take it easy, Hermione." Nessa left the house, leaving Hermione alone with the unconscious Malfoy.

Numbly walking into her guestroom, Hermione surveyed the battered man lying on the bed. Tears welled up in her eyes against her will. "Why do I keep saving you?" she whispered to the empty room.

That very question haunted her as she went to the kitchen for some dinner. Why did she keep saving him? The first time she had loved him, but the other two instances she had hated him…hadn't she?

The sound of her doorbell startled her. She rushed to the door, wondering who in the world it could be. She whipped open the door, fully intending to turn the person away, when she saw Zofia smiling at her. "Zofia? What're you doing here?"

Her smile faded. "We had dinner plans, you know, to celebrate the opening of your store."

"Oh, goodness, I'm sorry, I completely forgot," she apologized quickly and ushered her friend inside. "Things have been really…hectic today."

"What happened?"

"Well, uh, the last of the renegade Death Eaters were caught today."

Zofia looked confused. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"Don't get me wrong, it's great, but…" Hermione opened the door to her guestroom, which was just off the den, and beckoned Zofia to look inside.

When she saw the battered figure on the bed she gasped, "Malfoy? Is it really him?"

"Hard to recognize, isn't he?"

She tentatively stepped forward. "But his mum…"

"Was the leader," Hermione finished. "Come on, I don't want to wake him."

Almost begrudgingly, Zofia left the bedside. "Why is he here?" she asked when the door closed behind them.

"He's practically comatose and when he does wake up he'll be nothing short of useless," Hermione explained the obvious.

"You didn't answer my question," Zofia probed.

Hermione sat down in the nearest chair. How could she explain something she didn't understand herself? "He doesn't have anyone else."

"Maybe, but he doesn't have you either. Hermione, why are you doing this?"

"He needs constant attention!" she said louder than she meant to.

Zofia looked at her compassionately. "You know, you don't always have to do what's right and noble."

"Right and noble?" Hermione snorted. "Do you think not telling the Headmaster that Draco was a Death Eater who was trying to kill him was noble?"

"It was to Malfoy," she reasoned. "You saved a surprisingly innocent man from a terrible fate, just like I have a feeling you did today."

Hermione looked down guiltily. "He doesn't have anyone else," she said again.

Zofia just shook her head. She knew Hermione had been the best witch in her year, but she also knew of her capability to be rash. "I'm going to go get us some food at the Three Broomsticks," Zofia told her as she stood up. "When I come back you're telling me how this happened."

Hermione nodded but didn't say anything.

Zofia returned in a twenty minutes with the food. She couldn't help notice that the door to the guestroom stood ajar; Hermione must've just come from inside. She decided not to say anything, though.

Without a word, Zofia began to set out the plates and food. She'd been there so many times that it felt like a second home. She'd only really had friends the last two years of her schooling and she'd only had them because of her friendship with Hermione. Since she had known about Hermione's relationship with Malfoy, the two had remained friends even after everyone else had abandoned Hermione. They were pretty much each other's only friend.

Hermione came into the kitchen with a distressed look. The situation was definitely not a positive one. "I wonder when he'll wake up," she muttered absentmindedly.

Zofia shrugged and sat down across from her friend. "So what happened?" she inquired immediately.

"I guess the group had been hiding out in the forest and when Narcissa saw Draco apparate she just lost it." It was the diluted, G-rated version.

"So that's how he ended up in your guestroom looking like he's been through the seventh circle of hell?"

"Do I really need to give the gory details? It's obvious what they did to him. I just stunned them from the window and went to get the Aurors and a healer." She shrugged noncommittally. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Alright, it'll probably be in the _Daily Prophet_ tomorrow anyway."

Hermione rolled her eyes and took another drink of her butterbeer. Zofia noticed, and not for the first time, that Hermione had begun to refer to Malfoy as Draco like she had during their ill-fated relationship. But unless she wanted to row with her best friend, she knew she shouldn't point it out. "Why was he here?" she asked instead.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know; he never got here. I don't think he made it past the gate."

**A/N: I feel I must apologize for the terrible representation of Narcissa. In my defense I wrote this before DH and I didn't know she would turn out to be so decent. It also worked best for the plot....naturally. Review?**


	15. Awake

**A/N:** everything except the stuff you don't recognize belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Chapter 15: Awake**

Hermione watched the sun sink in the sky. The day had been very uneventful and flat out boring. She left the window. Draco was still unconscious; he hadn't moved at all. Hermione was so bored that she almost wanted him to wake up just so she'd have some company.

The door creaked as she pushed it open and leaned against the frame. When she'd been working at the Ministry, the fact that she was just a lonely, single woman with only one friend hadn't been so obvious. Of course, Percy Weasley, who had been her boss, was nothing short of hostile toward her, but she'd still been around people.

A moan from within the dark room brought her back. She rushed to the bed. Draco's eye lids fluttered and his head shook slightly; he was finally awake.

"Draco?" she whispered.

His head slowly turned towards her and he opened his eyes. "Hermione?" he asked in confusion. "Where am I?"

"My house, how are you feeling?" The potion Nessa had left were on the bedside table for easy access if he was in a great deal of pain.

He tried to sit up, but gave up with a wince. "What happened to me?"

Hermione didn't want to answer this question; in fact, she'd been dreading it if he asked. If he didn't remember what happened, it was probably for the better. She ignored it as best she could and opened one of the corked vials. "Are you in pain?"

"Uh huh, what—"

"Drink this then," she cut him off and pushed the vial to his lips. "This should help with the pain for a while."

He calmly swallowed. "What hap—?"

"Are you hungry?" she asked quickly.

A small, pathetic smile came to his lips. "Very."

"I'll fetch you some supper." Quickly leaving the room, she went to her kitchen and began to whip up something. She didn't really care what he wanted to eat; he was getting what she made. When she took the tray into him, she didn't give him a chance to ask the question again.

Upon her retreat, she remembered that Nessa had wanted to know when Draco woke up so she could check his progress. She popped her head into the room and told Draco that she'd be gone for a short while, then apparated from her front yard.

"Was he in a lot of pain?" Nessa asked when Hermione found her at the hospital.

"I don't really know. I gave him the potion for pain, but I don't know how much pain he was actually in," she said honestly.

"If you can, have him stay in bed tomorrow, except, you know, too go to the loo. His bones have healed, he wouldn't have woken up otherwise, but the breaks might still be weak."

"But after tomorrow…?"

"He should be strong enough, and don't let him tell you otherwise," Nessa joked.

"Okay, when can he leave?" This was the question foremost on Hermione's mind.

Nessa stopped walking and looked at her seriously. "I would like to have someone with him for the next week."

Hermione sighed. "Alright, but after—?"

"After a week you can throw him out." Nessa smiled. "Just be gentle when you do it."

Hermione gave her mirthless smile in return. "I'll just kick him out the door." She stopped Nessa one more time before she left. "He doesn't remember what happened, does that mean anything?"

Nessa shook her head. "No, it's just because he was unconscious. I'd say the less he remembers the better."

When Hermione got back to her house, she was almost afraid to go into her guest room. She poked her head in to see Draco finishing the sandwich she thrown together for him. He smiled at her but it turned into a wince. "My face hurts."

"Yeah, your cheek bones were fractured," she explained without thinking.

"How?"

She rushed over to the bed and picked up the tray. "Are you still hungry or was that enough?"

His gray eyes dimmed with disappointment. That was the fourth time she'd ignored his question; she obviously didn't want to tell him. "No, that was enough, thank you."

She took the tray out of the room and dropped it on the counter. He wasn't going to give up; she knew that, but she still didn't want to tell him. But if she knew one thing about Draco it was that he was tenacious to a fault. Only, if she hated as much as she swore she did, then why couldn't she tell him?

_He's been through enough already_, she thought as she sauntered over to her desk. If he couldn't remember that his mother had tortured him within an millimeter of his life, then she wasn't going to tell him.

Falling into the muggle office chair she'd gotten for Christmas one year, she began to feel around for the concealed button until she heard she heard the familiar pop. An organized, but tightly packed box was immediately pushed into view. She didn't know why she kept them; she didn't know why she hid them, but there they were…every letter Draco had ever sent her.

Gingerly running her fingers over the folded parchment, she pulled out one at random. They all said the same thing in so many words. She unfolded the one dated two years ago. She remembered this one vividly; it was the one that had almost broken her…

_Hermione stepped out into the sinking sunlight and sighed. She'd been moving in and arranging things all day. Her new house was still a big mess, but she really needed a break. She sank onto the lush grass and rested her head on the wall behind her._

_She didn't realize she'd dozed off until she woke up. Seemingly out of nowhere, a thick bundle of parchment hit her square in the forehead and landed in her lap. She opened the parcel in a daze, but immediately recognized the hurried script. "Malfoy," she sighed, but began to read it anyway._

"_Hermione, today is my birthday. Did you remember? I wouldn't expect you to because I hardly remembered myself. The only date I remember is the one that marks the last time you smiled in my direction, or felt anything but the deepest loathing for me. I sit in here alone; I haven't been outside for days. I guess I fail to see the reason that the sun rises. Without you, my world doesn't go round._

_I've tried to move on, but no one can compare to you. You're everything to me, you always will be. I love you, nothing can change that. I've told myself that you hate me, and you have good right, but you loved me once. You loved me with all your heart, I know you did, and somewhere inside there has to be a part of you that still does. My heart aches when I think of how it's my fault. I caused this, I brought it on myself, I know. _

_There's nothing I can say that will make you come back to me, but I'm nothing without you. My existence is meaningless. I was lost almost beyond recognition and you brought me back to the light. I fear that without you I'll fade again. I'm not bitter, I'm lost again. Words can't describe the pain in my soul. Come back to me, Hermione."_

"Hermione?"

Her heart nearly leapt from her chest at the sound of her name. Quickly wiping her tears, she turned to see Draco standing in the doorway of his room. He looked even more pathetic in the light with his many bruises. "What?" she asked with her hand over hear furiously beating heart. She quickly walked over to him. "Why are you out of bed?"

A slight blush came to his pale cheeks. "I have to go…"

"Oh, the bathroom, sorry." She told him where it was and sank into the nearest chair. It was going to be a long week.


	16. Confused

**A/N:** Everything except the stuff you don't recognize belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Chapter Sixteen: Confused**

Keeping Draco in bed and off his feet proved more difficult than expected. Hermione was close to not allowing him to have anymore liquid after his fourth trip to the bathroom. And when she had to avoid his favorite question three times, she just wanted to ignore him.

Draco, in his slow, oblivious manner, was beginning to understand that she did not want to tell him what had happened to him. What he didn't understand was why. Furthermore, he didn't understand why he was there. Especially after their disastrous date, why would she take care of him? But he had the feeling that she wouldn't answer that question either.

Hermione came in into the room, which was actually lit by the sun since Draco was awake, with a lunch try and a frown. Draco was happy about the lunch, not so happy about the frown. The excitement he felt over being around her again was dampened by the fact that she wasn't too thrilled to be around him. "Thank you," he said as she sat the tray in front of him.

Something flashed in her brown eyes, but only for an instant. Draco couldn't help but smile slightly as she fled, mumbling, "You're welcome." When he'd been a proud Malfoy in school, he'd only used such manners around Hermione, and if he remembered correctly, she hadn't been able to resist him when he'd simply thanked her or apologized. Something he'd realized too late to use to his advantage. But, apparently, it still affected her.

Hermione didn't try to hide her annoyance when he limped from the room a half an hour after he'd finished lunch. What did she expect after she just given him something to drink? And it was stuff like that that he didn't understand. If she was so annoyed with him, then why was she doing this?

The clock read seven-fifteen when Hermione took a dinner tray into her guest room. Draco had one of her huge books open on his lap, but it looked like he'd fallen asleep. "How rude," she mumbled and turned to leave.

"Huh?"

She immediately turned back around, almost spilling the soup on the tray. "Oh, I thought you'd fallen asleep."

"No, just thinking," he told her softly, almost purposefully.

Hermione hated feeling so transparent, and Draco was the only one who could make her feeling that way. She hadn't forgotten that occlumency ran in his family. She waited for him to move the book before setting the tray on the bed. "What're you reading?" she asked with forced brightness.

To say that he was surprised would be a grave understatement; he could hardly utter an answer. "Uh, one of your accounts."

Draco was even more astonished when she pulled the chair from the corner next to the bed and sat down. "Which one?"

"The Second War."

She gave him a suppressed smile. "You were there, why would you ever want to relieve it?"

He shrugged. "I've never looked at it, I just wondered if I was in it."

"Of course you're in it." Hermione pulled the book, which had been set aside for supper, into her lap and began to flip through its pages. "You fought, and quite fervently, so I included you." Upon finding the desired page, she turned the book around.

The page she revealed not only mentioned him, there was what she called a bio-sketch. Ignoring his steaming soup, Draco read the paragraph solely devoted to him. It spoke of him going against generations of Malfoy's and fighting for what he knew was right. That, of course, wasn't exactly true, and even though the author herself was the true reason, it wasn't for the world to know. "That actually makes me sound pretty good," he commented as he finished the text.

"It's just the facts."

"Yes, but—"

"I can be objective, Draco," she cut him defensively. She stood up, replaced the chair and then headed to the door. "I didn't as hate you as much as I did before, after us I mean," she added before she closed the door.

Draco went back to his soup, but something caught his attention as he went over Hermione's parting comment. "Didn't?" he mumbled to himself. That would imply past tense, wouldn't it? If she _didn't_ hate him as much, how did she feel about him now?

Hermione crawled into bed early that night. She'd been so distracted with Draco being there that she'd nearly forgotten that her store was supposed to open tomorrow. Nessa had said that Draco could start walking around tomorrow, so he could either join her at the store, or he could go home. Somehow she doubted that he would ever choose the latter.

A smile crept onto her face; her store was opening tomorrow. The dream that she'd had since she was eleven was about to come true. And even Draco Malfoy couldn't dampen that.

When Hermione rolled out of bed at five the next morning, she was surprised to hear noises in her kitchen as she made her way down the stairs. Draco was so busy that it took a bit for him to notice her standing in the doorway; from the looks of things, he'd been up for a while.

"Good morning," he greeted with a smile when he noticed her. "Hungry?"

"Yes," she yawned. "Since when could you cook?"

"Since I've lived by myself." He sat a full plate on her table. "Sit."

"I'm guessing you feel better, since you're up so early."

He sat his plate next to her and sat down. "I got up before you could tell me to stay in that bed any longer," he admitted. That was only half of the truth. Before he'd gone to sleep the previous night, he'd remembered what he'd been doing near her house the other day. He'd decided to make breakfast in order to sway her opinion toward him. He wanted to prove he'd changed.

Hermione actually smiled. "That was all Nessa. I would've thrown you out yesterday."

Draco tried to smile back, but it was a half hearted effort. "So when are you going to throw me out?"

"Next week. I don't know why, but Nessa wants to be completely sure you're healed." She chewed a few more bites of breakfast. "Which reminds me, my store opens today and I think you should just come with me."

Draco nodded. As much as he wanted to believe it, he knew that it wasn't because she wanted to be with him. "Sure, I could help out if you want me to," he offered.

"I don't know if I really need that much help. Besides, I think you should take it easy."

Draco rolled his eyes. He was sick of taking it easy. Over the years he'd developed a taste for working and he hated feeling useless.

"This is delicious," Hermione complimented and pointed at her plate. "You _can_ cook."

--------

"Wow, I've never seen these before. What are they?" Draco stared at the colorful, moving pictures in amazement.

"It's a comic book. They're originally a muggle thing, but Lee Jordan started making them with magic. As you can see, the result was brilliant," Hermione answered from behind the counter.

"Really? Muggles came up with this?" He seemed utterly astonished.

"Yeah, they have had _some_ good ideas. Like cell phones," Hermione mumbled, thinking how she would have gotten help faster when Draco had been attacked if wizards had cell phones or something like it.

"What's a cell phone?" he asked as he perused the other shelves.

"Uh, quick communication devices. Something wizards should really consider adopting." Hermione realized she was pretty much talking to herself. Draco seemed genuinely fascinated with her stock. She didn't even notice that she was smiling until he looked at her questioningly. She immediately looked away. _It's not cute, or attractive in any manor_, she mentally yelled at herself, _you've been through that already._

At eight, when her doors officially opened, Zofia came in with a smile. "Hermione, it's so pretty!" she exclaimed as she hugged her friend. Then she noticed Draco at a back shelf. "Why is _he_ here?"

"Be nice, Zo," Hermione chastised.

"Hermione, you can't tell me you're on good terms," Zofia whispered and pulled her further away from him in order to give them some privacy. What she didn't realize was that Draco hadn't even noticed her presence.

"He's been through a lot—"

"And if you build up his hopes then he'll go through more."

Hermione looked away. "Maybe not."

"Hermione!" Zofia whispered harshly. "Tell me you're not serious!"

"I don't know!" she admitted desperately. "I'm so confused!"

"What' there to be confused about? Don't you remember what he did to you?" Zofia inhaled to calm herself down. "Just think about it, do you really want to go through that again?"

"He's changed so much, though, Zo. The image that I have hated just isn't him." Hermione ran a frustrated hand over her hair. "I should've never spoken to him, and then none of this would've have happened. I should've just put up with his letters. Would've been better than this."

The bell over her door rang and Hermione immediately planted an affected smile on her face. "Hi, Nessa, welcome to _Taberna_."

"Thanks. I had the morning off, so I thought I'd come see." She looked around and saw Draco in the corner. "And I should probably check on him while I'm here."

"Alright, tell me if you need any help."

She turned back to Zofia, her face turned back into a frown.

"Well, I have to get to the ministry or someone will be on my case." She sighed. "Don't do anything you'll regret."

As she left, Hermione couldn't believe she'd just been so honest. She'd barely been that honest with herself!

Things really picked up in her store after lunch. People from all over were stopping in. The comic books proved to be a hit, not only with the younger customers, but with parents as well. After all, Christmas was just around the corner.

Draco also proved to be a big help. Apparently during the slow morning he'd memorized where everything was and he could help people find anything they needed. This further aided her confused heart. He really had changed; she believed that now that she saw him interacting with other people, actually serving other people in a way.

Hermione was fairly surprised when the Weasley twins walked through the door a little after five. They, unlike the rest of their family, had somehow understood. They had wanted something that many people disapproved of, so they understood the reason that Hermione had carried on with Draco even though she knew everyone she knew would disapprove.

"Thought we'd support the newest entrepreneur around here," Fred explained.

"Reminds me of when we first started," George added with a reminiscent smile.

"Thanks guys."

--------

Hermione fell onto her couch that night and Draco was soon to follow. "That was exhausting, but totally amazing."

"Yeah, mostly exhausting."

She shot a tired smile in his direction. "Thanks for the help, honestly. It wouldn't have gone so well were it not for you."

"You're welcome. "

Hermione suddenly had to look away; she'd forgotten how expressive and beautiful his eyes could be. "Well," she said standing up. "We've got another day like today coming up. Good night."

Draco bid her good night and followed her from the room with his eyes. She was definitely being nicer to him; she had been nice to him all day. He knew it meant something because Hermione never did things without a reason. Maybe there was some hope after all.

The grandfather clock in the corner signaled the time; it was only a quarter after seven. Why was she going to bed? They hadn't even eaten dinner. She'd apparently wanted to get away from him, but why? He hated her ability to leave him completely confused.

A/N: Writers love to hear how people like their work, so please review! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far, you've made me smile so much, and even blush a few times. Thanks!


	17. Because of You

**A/N**: Everything except the stuff you don't recognize belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Chapter Seventeen: Because of You**

Out of the corner of her eye Hermione could see Draco showing the comic display to a group of boys who couldn't have been more than nine years old. She couldn't help but smile at the excited manor in which he sold them. As the boys filed over to pay for the items, he enthusiastically moved to a young couple who seemed to be looking for something specific.

Her mind definitely wasn't in what she was doing as she rang up the comic books and gave the correct change. She realized that he would only be here for this week, but for reasons she'd rather not admit, she would miss him when he went back home. Sure, she'd be happy to get her privacy at home back, but she didn't know how she'd fare without him at the store.

_Well, I just have to hire someone_, she thought as she rang up another purchase thanks to Draco. Only, a random employee probably wouldn't sell her wares with the same excitement that Draco did. It would probably take someone else weeks to know the store like the back of his or her hand when he'd known it since the first day.

_This_ was the Draco that she'd known was inside of him all those years ago. _This_ was the Draco he'd been with her in school, the Draco that hadn't followed through with murder…

"Are you hungry?"

Hermione shook her head to bring herself out of her reverie. "Huh?"

"If you're hungry I can take over here." It was Draco.

She didn't know if she was actually hungry, or it was just the power of suggestion, but her stomach began to yell at her; she was hungry now. "Yeah, are you sure you'll be okay by yourself?"

"Course, it slows down around this time anyway, everyone else is eating lunch too."

She smiled and disappeared into her office to eat the food she'd brought with her. Draco was right about the thinning crowd. He only helped three people during the time she was gone. But he was completely okay with that because it gave him some time to himself, some time to think.

The fact was he'd never felt so relaxed in his life. He thoroughly enjoyed working there, being around people. He'd never considered himself someone who enjoyed being around books, but he was beginning to think he was wrong. He loved just being there, and being around Hermione was definitely an added bonus. He was starting to dread the day he'd have to go back to his mundane job at the ministry.

He felt her presence behind him before she said anything. "Thanks, Draco, I can work out there if you want."

"Nah, I like working the floor. "

Hermione smiled. "Okay, I'll take over here then."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So how do you feel after three days of hard work?" Hermione asked as she unlocked her front door with a flick of her ash wand.

Draco waved a pale hand dismissively. "That is not hard work, even though it's exhausting."

"Uh huh, so you feel okay?" she asked again.

"I feel better than okay." He suddenly felt like being completely honest with her, more than that, he felt like opening up to her. "For the first time in probably five years, I actually don't feel completely useless. I never thought helping people would feel so…" He couldn't find the word to describe what he was feeling.

"Fulfilling?" she finished.

"Yeah," he agreed softly.

They were having a moment, they both realized it and neither of them wanted to be the one to speak and end it. Hermione tried not to think about the fact she wasn't supposed to be feeling what she was feeling at the moment, and Draco had to suppress his overwhelming urge to pull her into his arms and just hold her; he knew it wouldn't go over so well. Little did he know… she probably would have let him.

Suddenly looking away, Hermione moved toward her kitchen, afraid that her feelings would manifest themselves on her forehead and he'd know how she was feeling; she felt too vulnerable when he looked at her like that. "Are you hungry?" she asked in an effort to end the moment.

"Yeah, got anything good?"

Hermione searched her fridge and cabinets. "No." She frowned.

Draco couldn't help but laugh at the frustrated look on her face. "Alright then, we'll go to the Three Broomsticks, my treat."

She looked him over with feigned skepticism. "Fine, but it's not a date."

"Course not, wouldn't dream of it."

"Yes you would you liar," she mumbled with a smile as she walked past him to the door. The sun was rapidly falling in the sky as they apparated to the middle of Hogsmeade, directly in front of the Three Broomsticks. Even though Hermione lived outside of Hogsmeade, it had been a while since she'd been to the establishment.

Madam Rosemerta greeted them with her usual smile and they found a clean table. "If I had wanted a date, I would have said Madam Puddifoot's," he explained.

"And I would have said no."

"Exactly." Draco liked it when they were like this, but it could have been better. They were friends now, and that was like torture to him. She didn't hate him; he knew it, he could see it in her eyes. But there was more within those golden flecked pools; there was suppressed desire. Desire that he knew she wished she didn't have for him. And desire that he had the feeling that she would never admit to having.

Silence had fallen between them as they were both lost in their thoughts of each other. Draco was trying to figure out a way to get closer and Hermione was searching for a way to distance herself emotionally. She was falling for him again, fast and hard, and she hated herself for it.

Time seemed to pass slowly as they sat in the blaring silence, each knowing that they were the center of the other's thoughts. It was Draco who finally broke it; no, he shattered it. "Are you ever going to tell me what happened to me?"

Hermione closed her eyes. "You had to ruin it." She set her napkin on the table and slid off of her stool. "I'm not hungry anymore, thanks for dinner." And she left.

Draco rested his head in his hands. He was angry, but for once it wasn't at himself. He was actually frustrated with Hermione. He had a right to know what happened to him, and he would tell her just that.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione stared blankly at her wall. She was lying on the floor, she didn't really know why she wasn't on her bed, she just wasn't. Her bedroom door creaked open and she could hear footsteps, but she didn't move. "Hermione?" Draco asked. "Are you in here?"

She considered ignoring him so he'd leave; she knew what he wanted and she ultimately decided that she'd have to tell him sometime. But when he found out she knew that he would wish he didn't know. "Over here," she said softly.

He walked around the bed and smiled down at her. "What're you doing on the floor?"

"Hiding," she answered honestly and somewhat pathetically.

"But you told me you were here."

"I didn't say from you."

"Okay, may I join you?" He asked even though he was already lowering himself to the floor.

"Sure,"

He was less than an arm's length away as he looked into her eyes. She'd been crying, he could tell even in the darkness. It made him wonder if he really did want to know what had happened to him if just asking made her cry, but he asked again anyway. "Hermione, what happened to me?"

Hermione sat up at his question. "Draco—"

"No, Hermione, I have a right to know what happened to me."

"I know, but—I can't tell you, it's too hard." She almost started to cry again.

"You know why? It's hard because you still care—"

"Of course I still care about you!" she yelled. "Merlin, Draco, I loved you! I'm not just some callous bitch, you know." She held her knees to her chest as he sat up beside her.

"Then why won't you come back…?"

"Because I loved you," she explained. "I told you things I've never told anyone else, I did things with you that I have never done with anyone else, and look where it got me, Draco, broken and alone."

"You've done this to yourself—"

"Don't!" she yelled and pushed him away a lot harder than she'd meant to. He fell back onto the floor, hitting his head with a loud thud. "Oh, no! I'm sorry." She quickly helped him up. "I'm sorry."

"I'm fine, Hermione," he assured her as he sat back up.

They looked into each other's eyes for sometime before Hermione finally spoke. "I see it in my mind. It's so vivid, and I can't forget it." She looked at him desperately. "Don't you understand? It's better if you don't know."

"_Why_?" he stressed.

Hermione looked away as more tears began to fall down her cheeks. She knew there was only one way to stop him from asking again. "Draco, it was your mum," she whispered.

She chanced a look at him. He seemed so lost, like he didn't know how to react or feel about this news.

"I'm sorry," she said at last.

He stood up and left without a word to her. She gave him a few moments before she followed. She found him in her backyard, just standing there. "Draco," she soothed. Against her better judgement, she pushed her arms around him. "I'm so sorry."

"I don't know why I'm surprised," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "I guess I would expect it more out of my dad, but not her." His voice broke. He was trying not to cry, she could tell.

She stepped back so she could see his face. "It's alright to cry, you know."

Then he broke. He didn't just cry, he let out a feral roar and then collapsed to the ground in sobs. She couldn't imagine what he was going through at that moment. Just the sight of him made her eyes fill with tears once more. She kneeled next to him and just let him cry; she knew that the best thing for him to do was just let it out.

"Draco, I'm sorry," she soothed as he began to calm down. "That's why I didn't want to tell you, I was trying to protect you." He looked at her, his stormy eyes reflecting the moonlight. Hermione tentatively wiped his cheek as another tear fell. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"I realized that a little too late." Draco sat back on his knees. "What did she do?"

Hermione inhaled slowly before she started her tale. "It wasn't just her; it was the group, the last of the Death Eaters. I was in the shower and I heard you scream. By the time I got to the window I could only recognize you by your hair." This time she didn't even attempt to wipe her tears; she knew many more would fall before the night was over. "She would…curse you then her goons would just kick the shit out of you. It was hard to watch; I thought you were dead. Even now I don't know you survived."

"Because of you. You saved my life yet again." This time it was Draco who wiped a tear from _her_ cheek. "Thank you seems so inadequate."

She looked away. "I wasn't going to let her kill you."

"But you didn't have to do all of this; you didn't have to take care of me, let me live here," he reminded her.

"Yes… I did."


	18. Hiring

**A/N**: Everything except the stuff you don't recognize belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Chapter Eighteen: Hiring**

Draco didn't understand. Was this part of her job? Was someone_ paying_ her? Was _he_ supposed to pay her? "I—I don't understand, you _had_ to help me?"

Much to his relief, Hermione shook her head. "No, that came out wrong. I meant, in my mind I didn't have a choice."

Oh, right, that really clears—nope, still confused. "I still don't understand," he admitted slowly.

She sighed heavily. It was bad enough that she was falling for him again, now she was going to have to tell him why she'd taken him in. If she'd learned one thing it was that if Draco wanted to know something, he would ask until she told him, even if it would break his heart. "There I was," she began, "Feeling sorry for myself because I had only one friend in the world, and the only man I will probably ever love like I did had betrayed me, and so on. " She could tell that Draco wanted to protest, but she stopped him with a raise of her hand. "Let me finish. But when I saw there in my yard I realized how utterly pathetic I was. You don't even have one friend, your mum was torturing you with the intent to murder you, and the woman you loved—" Here she paused to build up the courage to say what needed to be said. "The woman you loved had stupidly convinced herself that you had betrayed her even though you had risked your life and ultimately done the right thing—"

"Because of her…you," Draco finished.

"Exactly. That's why I'm doing this." She looked down as a shy smile parted her lips. "And because I wanted to. It was fate's way of getting me near you when my pride wouldn't allow it."

She was suddenly pensive. "I guess it's something else too," she whispered enigmatically.

"What else," he asked uneasily. What more could there possibly be?

"I guess I still felt guilty about how I treated you, you know, during the war."

It was Draco who looked away at this, but she could see the memories flashing in his eyes. "Oh,"

"I never told anyone what I did, especially after…" Her words faltered. She couldn't bring herself to say that he'd actually want to kill himself.

The same pain was mirrored in his shining eyes. He understood. "You were there weren't you? You broke the mirror. You saved me then, too."

She nodded. "Yes, that's why I never did it again. I was just being a horrible person." She snorted, she needed to change the subject. "Anyway, if you could have seen what you looked like when they brought in here…"

"That bad?" he asked with forced placidity. He was a little confused by the careless way she'd just commented on his condition after she'd just confessed she'd saved his life another time when he hadn't even known.

But his question sobered her again. "Yes, it was. Like I told, your cheekbone was broken," she shook her head, she couldn't on, it was still too painful. "You don't want to hear this. Let's just say that it's incredible that you're alive and that you're okay."

He was silent for a time. Then he suddenly remembered something he'd meant to tell her on the previous subject. "I don't know if it means anything now, but sixth year Dumbledore knew…about me," he revealed softly.

"Knew? He knew you were plotting to kill him?" she clarified incredulously.

He nodded. "He knew and he didn't do anything about it."

Hermione stood up suddenly and began to pace. Clearly this new information was hard to swallow. "He knew!" she shrieked. "All this time I've felt guilty…when he knew!"

Okay, maybe that wasn't the greatest thing to tell her, he thought as he watched her pace. "Hermione," he said calmly, but she continued to pace. "Hermione," he said a little more firmly.

"What?" she said a lot harsher than she'd meant.

He stood up and held her by her shoulders to keep her from pacing. "You should be relieved. Why are you pacing like this?"

Her eyes failed to meet his. "It– it just changes things," she finally managed to mutter.

Draco raised her chin so he could see her eyes. "What does it change?"

"Now I'm not such a horrible person who deserves to be punished."

He raised a pale eyebrow with concern. "Punished? Why would you be punished?"

"Because I didn't tell Professor Dumbledore and he died because of it, but if he knew I couldn't have help anyway," she explained.

"Right, but what does that change?" he asked again.

She hesitated; she didn't want to tell him, but she'd already made the comment. "Draco, do you know why I never tried to stop you from sending your letters before now?"

He shook his head with interest.

"It was because I knew that if you said those things to me, or touched me, then I'd be lost again," she admitted.

Draco was stunned, but he began to understand. She had been punishing herself for Dumbledore's death; punishing herself by keeping her distance from him. "But I thought you hated me."

"There's a very thin line between love and hate. I know it's cliché, but it's true. I tried to convince myself I hated you, but every time I read one your letters I fell in love with you again. And then I think I almost hated you because you _made_ me love you again."

He couldn't resist, he had to touch her. He stepped toward her and cupped her wet cheek, his long pale fingers wrapping around her neck. "You're not lost…" His face moved dangerously close to hers. "You're found."

Then he kissed her.

Hermione didn't even try to push him away. She _was_ lost; she was lost in him, drowning in his kiss and his love. She'd been fooling herself, thinking she was falling for him again when the truth was, she hadn't stopped. He'd hurt her so much because she'd loved him so much, and she'd continued to be hurt because she'd continued to love him.

But Draco eventually pulled away. "We need to slow down."

_What_? Hermione wanted to yell. But she calmed down; she knew he was right. "You're right, of course."

He backed further away. "Uh, I think I can go home now. I'm sufficiently healed."

Her mind was screaming at her, telling her to beg him to stay, to run into his arms and never let go. But, again, reason won out. He couldn't stay there, she knew it, but it didn't make her happy about it. "Yes, I'm sure you're right."

Hermione followed him into her house. He didn't have much to pack up, just two robes he'd bought in Hogsmeade. But he lingered in the room; he didn't want to leave as much as Hermione didn't want him to.

"Draco," she said as he emerged from the room.

"Yes?" He looked to her, sitting in the chair. She looked incredibly morose and he hated to leave her, but he knew it wasn't the end. They just needed some space; they needed to take it slow this time. True, they were adults now and an intimate relationship was generally accepted, but they needed time to experience that long forgotten emotional intimacy before they came together physically.

"What were you doing here?"

It was a vague question, but he knew she wanted to know why he'd ended up in her front yard. "I was bringing you breakfast," he told her.

She smiled softly. "Oh,"

"I just wanted you to like me again, as a friend," he added.

"Draco, we'll never just like each other, we can never be just friends."

He clearly remembered a time when she'd said that before. _"Either we hate each other, or we love each other, I don't think we'll ever like each other." _The picture of her at that time was so clear in his mind; she'd just told him that she loved him. Somehow he knew that the underlying meaning of what she'd just said was the same; she loved him now, because she most definitely didn't hate him.

* * * *

Hermione sat the sign in her window advertising that she was hiring. She hadn't heard from Draco for two days; she feared that it had all been a dream, or even a sick joke. She missed him.

She went back to her office and fell into her chair. Even without the help of such rubbish as Divination, she knew the day would be long and hard. In fact, she predicted that if she didn't hear from Draco the rest of her life wouldn't be so pleasant either.

Checking the watch that hung around her neck, Hermione pushed herself back out of the chair. Her doors were to open in fifteen minutes. But as she neared the door to her office, she heard the bell above the front door ring. Only two people knew how to unlock her door, and she was one.

As she had guessed (and fervently hoped and prayed), it was Draco.

She attempted to act impassive as he walked up to the desk, concealing something behind his back, but she watched his ever step. "Good morning, Miss Granger," he greeted with a meaningful smile. He pulled the concealed object from behind his back and set it on the counter; it was her sign. "I see you're hiring."

"I need help, why's it matter?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to apply."

She tried to stop it, but her jaw dropped. She quickly composed herself. "Draco, you have a job, not that you need one," she added.

He shrugged. "I quit as soon I went back. After I loved working here so much, I couldn't stand it." He tried to suppress it, but she could tell he wanted to smile. "And I have another request, too."

This time she raised an eyebrow of her own. She was curious. "Really?"

He nodded. "Come here," he beckoned.

She didn't refuse to move, but she took her good old time to get around the counter, all the while looking at him with affectionate suspicion.

"Listen, I spent all of yesterday thinking this over. We don't need to go through all of the stress and uncertainty of dating again, do we?" he asked almost desperately.

Hermione understood that he was afraid she'd reject him. She'd thought about playing it cool when he'd walked in, but emotional games were never her thing. She liked honesty because she'd had a lack of it throughout her life. "Draco, we didn't really date—"

"That's not the point." He stepped closer and rested his hands on her shoulders. "I love you, and I want to marry you."

"W-what?" she stammered. She couldn't believe she'd heard him correctly. Had he really just proposed to her? She looked at him and he looked back hopefully. What should she say? _Say yes, you idiot_, her mind yelled at her, _you know you love him_.

"Marry me," he repeated.

She smiled and let him pulled her into his embrace. "You're hired," she whispered.

He laughed. "For which position?"

She snuggled up to him and inhaled his scent. "Both," she breathed.

Draco kissed her curls, her forehead, the tip of her nose, and finally her lips. She smiled at him sweetly when he broke the kiss. He'd never felt so complete. "How do you do this to me, Hermione?"

Her smile curled into a mischievous grin. She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek directly in front of his ear before whispering, "It's witchcraft."

_~ The End ~_

**A/N: I know this chapter is fluffy and I use a lot of cliché like stuff, but I'm not good at dramatic endings. I like them to be happy and warm-fuzzy like. Besides, it's my first fanfic, so please forgive me if you threw up from the sugar overload. Thank you again to everyone who read this and reviewed it. They were soooo great. I almost wanted to add more to it because everyone liked it so much, but, alas, I did not. But I do have a second generation fic about their daughter though. Again, thanks for your support. -Nicole**

**Sequel: Fatum Amoris: The Fate of Love-- **Medea Malfoy had always looked up to her parents Draco and Hermione as the ideal wizard and witch...so imagine her surprise when some of her classmates seem to hate her just because she is a Malfoy. What could be wrong with being a Malfoy? Patrick Potter had been told about _The Malfoys_ his entire life, but he failed to understand how Medea, a fellow Gryffindor who had an unfailing love of justice, could possibly be bad...


	19. Epilogue

**A/N**: Everything, except the stuff you don't recognize, belongs to JK Rowling and her utter genius.

**Chapter 19: Epilogue**

"You have to go," Hermione said for the third time. It was 11:30 and he needed to leave. She didn't want him to; in fact, she was extremely excited about the fact that after tomorrow night he would never have to leave her again. But for the time being, he needed to leave.

"Mmmm, I have thirty minutes," he mumbled and went in for another kiss.

She allowed one more kiss then pushed him away gently. "Draco, it will take you that long to get out the door."

He took her face in his hands and looked into her dark, expressive eyes. This woman had lived in his dreams for so many years after he'd lost her but here she was. He ran his thumb over her cheek. She was his again and it killed him every time he had to leave her. But he wouldn't have to very soon. "I guess we could go to the door now."

She smiled and stood up from the couch, pulling him up behind her. "You have until 11:55."

The second they reached the door, he pushed her back against it. "Now you're just being cruel. You're robbing me of four minutes."

"Draco, it's unlucky to see the bride before the wedding," she reminded him breathlessly as he kissed her neck. "And we've already had enough bad luck to last a lifetime."

He stopped and looked back to her eyes. She was right. He didn't like to believe in superstitions but he also didn't want to tempt fate. They had done everything they could to make their relationship right this time. They didn't have to hide from anyone since they had a total of one friend between them. They had kept their physical intimacy to a minimum so they could focus on building a stronger relationship. And he wasn't moving into her house until they got back from their honeymoon.

Malfoy Manor would remain empty for the time being. It had too many bad memories for both of them.

"I love you, Hermione," he whispered intensely. "I love you."

"I love you too."

He kissed her fiercely.

"Draco, darling—"

He kissed her again.

She took his face in her hands and held it away from hers. "You have to leave."

"Fine," he pouted. "But after tomorrow there's no getting rid of me."

She smiled and he could've sworn her eyes twinkled. "I can't wait."

.-.-.-.-.

"You look beautiful, Hermione," Zofia assured her when she looked in the mirror for the sixth time to make sure nothing had changed. "Of course, Draco would probably marry you even if you were missing an eye."

She sighed. "It's not like it matters. You're our only guest."

"Hey," Zofia said sternly and took hold of Hermione's shoulders. "It does matter. It would matter if you two were the only people in the room. Today is about you two starting your life together. No one else matters."

Hermione pulled her friend into a hug. "Thank you. You're so wise."

"Besides, I'm pretty sure I saw two other ginger heads out there." She winked at her friend and hopped out of the room.

She smiled and she looked in the mirror one last time. It really was the happiest day of her life and it had been a long and sometimes painfully bumpy road to get there. She was so ready for this.

The music started and she took one last breath as a single woman and walked through the door.

Not only were Fred and George seated in the small room, but Lee Jordan was with them as well as Nessa. As happy as it made her, she barely noticed. She only had eyes for the tuxedo clad man at the front of the small room. He looked so handsome, not that he didn't every other day, but today…there were no words.

Draco's eyes were glued to her as she walked toward him. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears; every step she took made it less likely that she would come to her long forgotten senses and run from him… again. And she looked amazing. He knew that at some point in his had found her unattractive but at that moment he couldn't possibly understand why he would have ever thought that. She was the most beautiful person he had ever met, inside and out. And now she was his forever.

.-.-.-.-.

Hermione smiled to herself over her morning tea. She couldn't help herself, even if she looked a little crazy. She was too happy to hold it in.

Shuffling feet entered the small kitchen behind her. "Good morning, love," he mumbled and kiss the top of her head. "What's for breakfast?"

"Porridge," she said brightly.

"Why?" he groaned.

She stood up and went to the stove to get him a serving. "Because it's good for you."

"Not a good reason," he mumbled and dropped onto a chair.

Her smile widened and she sat the steaming bowl in front of him. "Eat up, grumpy."

He moaned and picked up the spoon. "Why are you so…awake? We barely slept four hours last night."

A guilty blush crept up her cheeks. That was her fault, but her hormones were going crazy and she couldn't help herself. Especially when he'd come out of the wash room in nothing but a towel and damp, ruffled hair. He only had himself to blame really.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked after she'd stared at him for nearly two minutes.

"Of course, darling."

She rested her elbow on the table and set her chin on her fist. "How do you feel about babies?"

"What kind?" he asked with the remnants of his last bite still in his mouth.

She blinked at him a few times. "Human ones."

"I'm for them," he said, still staring at his cereal.

Her jaw fell open. She knew he was tired, but this was ridiculous. She tried again. "How would you feel about one living here?"

"Why?"

That was it. "Draco," she said firmly.

He finally looked up. "What?"

She was staring at him in disbelief. He wasn't normally this thick…even when he was sleep deprived. "Were you listening to me?"

"Yes," he said defensively. "You asked me how I felt about a human baby living here." He looked down at his bowl for a second. Then his whole body shot out of the chair and he looked down at her wide eyes. "Baby?"

Apparently he got it. She nodded. "Baby."

"We're gonna have a baby?" he whispered.

She smiled the smile that made her eyes twinkle. "Yes."

He pulled her to her feet and into a bone crushing hug. "Are you positive?"

She leaned back and looked up at his face. "I'm a witch."

"And the best of your age too," he laughed and kissed her soundly. "We're gonna have a baby!" He swept her up into his arms and twirled her around the kitchen. Then he suddenly stopped. "This isn't hurting the baby, is it?"

She laughed and kissed his cheek. "No, love, she'll be fine."

His smile softened. "It's a girl? How do you know?"

She cocked an eyebrow and smiled.

"Right, witch." His grip on her tightened and he kissed her temple. "You're going to be the best mother."

She laughed and her heart fluttered a little at the total confidence in his voice. "We'll see about that."

.-.-.-.-.-.

Draco watched his pregnant wife waddle into the loo to go one more time before bed. She had just entered the waddling stage last week and it was sign to him. He needed to tell her what he had been up to for the past few weeks. She wasn't going to like it, he had prepared himself for her hormonal over reaction, but he had to do it. This place was simply too small. He loved it but it was too small. The other bedroom was stacked to the ceiling with boxes of books that wouldn't fit in the book store and their little girl could only sleep in a bassinette in their little room so long.

Hermione waddled back into the room and scooted onto the bed. Draco immediately put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "Darling, I've been thinking and it's clear that we need more space."

She looked up slowly and suspiciously. "Okay, what's your point?"

He took a deep breath before he dared to speak the words. "Maybe it's time we considered moving into—"

She pulled away from him slightly. "No. Absolutely not. If you want more space than we can buy another house."

"Hermione, we already own two houses—"

She crossed her arms. "So we can get rid of yours."

Another deep breath. "You know I've tried, Hermione. I can't sell it to a Muggle and no witch or wizard will get near it."

"Including me," she added without missing a beat. "You know I have horrible memories in that dreadful place." She shuddered.

"I know, love, so do I, trust me. But I've been working on it. All I ask is that you come see it tomorrow. You won't even recognize it, I promise."

She glared at him but leaned against him again. "Fine, I'll look. But if one thing looks the remotely the same, I'm leaving."

He nodded and kissed the top of her head. "Fair enough."

"What do you think?"

Hermione turned a complete circle in the centre of empty master bedroom. It had actually been his bedroom but he'd knocked out a wall and made it larger and the original master bedroom was just another guest bedroom. This was the one space in that house that he actually had some happy memories.

"Was this your parent's room?" she asked, purposely trying to sound impassive…but failing.

He smiled. "No, this was my room. I just made it bigger."

"Oh," she said and took another turn.

"You haven't answered my question. What do you think?"

She sighed and looked him up and down. "If I didn't know better I would think that it was just another massive house."

He smiled. "It is. Only, now it is going to be our home where we will raise our family and have hundreds of happy memories."

She narrowed her eyes at him but her lips soon curved into a smile. "Yes we will."

He immediately moved and pulled her into his arms. He had put a great deal of thought into the renovations so everything would be perfect for her. He'd even gone to her childhood home and copied some of the designs. He wanted her to love it. At one point in his life he had loved the house and he wanted to give it a chance at a new life like he'd been given.

He kissed her soundly on the lips then gently on the tip of her nose. "Thank you." He ran his hand over her protruding stomach and sighed contentedly. "Do you want to keep your house?"

She laid her head on his shoulder. "We don't need to. And we can actually sell that one."

He nodded. "Just don't tell anyone I lived there."

She immediately looked up and took his face in her hands. "Stop that, it's—"

He took hold of her hands. "Stupid, I know. But I don't care. I have you and we're having a baby and that's all I care about."

.-.-.-.-.

"How about Margret?" Draco suggested as he flipped through the name book.

Hermione was lying on the hospital bed and her contractions were getting closer together. She was in between at the moment and they were discussing baby names because they still hadn't decided. "Why are you so stuck on "m" names?"

"I like the way they sound."

She nodded and looked at the clock. "Well not Margret." Her face contorted and her hand immediately grabbed his and attempted to crush it. "How did my mother ever do this?"

"And think, she didn't even have powerful potions to help."

Hermione glared at him. "It still hurts."

"I know." He covered her hand with his. If he could take the remainder of the pain away from her he would without a second thought.

She blew out a deep breath and her hand relaxed. "Melanie?"

"Err, she'd get called "Mel" or "Lanie" and I don't like those."

She shrugged. "I didn't really like it. It was just the first "M" name I thought of."

He laughed. "This is serious, Hermione. We're having a baby today and we don't have a name."

Another contraction hit. They were getting much closer.

"I am aware," Hermione said breathlessly when it had passed.

"How about Medea?"

She scrunched up her nose. "Medea? Historically speaking she wasn't exactly a role model."

He shrugged. "I know, but it has a nice ring to it and the only nickname you can get out of it is "Dea" and that's not bad."

"It is cute," she admitted. "But I don't know about giving her a name with a negative association…"

Draco looked away guiltily. "Especially when her last name already has one."

"That's not what I meant, Draaaaaaaaaoooooooooow!" she screamed in the middle of his name.

Two healers ran in the room and one took a peak under the blanket. "Mrs. Malfoy, you're about to have a baby."

"Believe it or not, I can feel that!" she yelled back.

Draco took her hand, no matter how bone crushing her grasp and kissed her forehead. The second healer gave her another potion for the pain and moved the end of the bed. Unholy moans and groans were coming out of Hermione and Draco was concerned.

"Should she be in so much pain?" he asked nervously and not without accusation.

"Magic can only help so much," the healer in charge mumbled quickly. "I need you to push, Hermione."

It seemed like an eternity but soon enough Hermione let out one long groan that melted into the sound of their baby girl crying for the first time.

"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, you now have a healthy baby girl."

Draco kissed his wife and then watched as the tiny baby was laid in her arms. She was wrinkled and pink and she was still crying but she was still one of the most beautiful things he'd seen in his entire life. "She's beautiful."

"Hello, Medea, I'm your mum," Hermione whispered and kiss the tiny head as gently as she could.

"Medea?" he asked with a smile. "I thought it was negative."

Hermione gave him a worn out smile then looked back down at the tiny miracle. "She can redeem the name."

"Just like you're doing with mine," he whispered and kissed her again. "Welcome to the world, Medea Malfoy. I'm your Dad."

**A/N: The complete sequel "Fatum Amoris: _The Fate of Love_" is also available! As well as the in-progress alternate part II "I Have Nothing". Happy reading!**


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